487A 


HOOK  N@Jll4| 


THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


Gentleman  Born 


BY 


EDWARD   C.  KANE 


NEW  YORK 

G.  ff^.  Dillingham   Co.,  Publishers 


MDCCCC 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress  in  the  year  1900, 

BY 

EDWARD  C.  KANE. 
All  Rights  Reserved. 


CONTENTS. 


PAGE 

PROLOGUE. 
Perry    Barrington's     Crime 7 

CHAPTER  I. 
The  'Varsity  Lion 23 

CHAPTER  II. 
One  Phase  of  Social  Life 31 

CHAPTER  III. 
Another    Phase 37 

CHAPTER  IV. 
John  McCarty,  Contractor 43 

CHAPTER  V. 
Swipsie    Biglin 49 

CHAPTER  VI. 
The   Season    at   Newport 55 

CHAPTER  VII. 

Ix)ve  at  Sight 62 

I 

CHAPTER  VIII. 
A  Southern  Belle 71 

CHAPTER  IX. 
Resolutions 78 

CHAPTER   X. 
Rescued 85 

CHAPTER  XI. 
On  the  Cliffs 93 


1702017 


iv  CONTENTS. 

PAGE 

CHAPTER  XII. 
Sheepshead 102 

CHAPTER  XIII. 
Searching  for   Evidence 100 

CHAPTER  XIV. 
Club   Life 118 

CHAPTER  XV. 
A  Stag  Supper 127 

CHAPTER  XVI. 
Conspirators     136 

CHAPTER  XVII. 
Counterplot 143 

CHAPTER  XVIII. 
Behind   the   Scenes 148 

CHAPTER  XIX. 
After  the  Play 161 

CHAPTER  XX. 
When  the  Clock  Strikes  Two 160 

CHAPTER  XXI. 
Daisy  Dimples 178 

CHAPTER  XXII. 
In  the Caf6 185 

CHAPTER  XXIII. 
Mrs.  Brandon  Entertains 193 

CHAPTER  XXIV. 
A  Fashionable  Opium  Joint 207 

CHAPTER  XXV. 
Miss  Gordon  Receives  a  Letter 221 

CHAPTER  XXVI. 
At    Bay 228 

CHAPTER  XXVII. 
Mildred's    Story 237 


CONTENTS.  v 

PAGE 

CHAPTER  XXVIII. 
In   Virtue's    Cause 245 

CHAPTER  XXIX. 
Rifts    in    the    Clouds 255 

CHAPTER  XXX. 
Pietro  Confesses   262 

CHAPTER   XXXI. 
A    Warning 270 

CHAPTER   XXXII. 
Nemesis 281 

CHAPTER   XXXIII. 
The   Wages   of   Sin 289 

CHAPTER  XXXIV. 
Doubting 297 

CHAPTER   XXXV. 
On   Christmas    Eve 30« 

CHAPTER  XXXVI. 
Whisperings   of   Love 315 

CHAPTER  XXXVII. 
Guyon's   Sweetheart    323 


A  GENTLEMAN  BORN. 


PROLOGUE. 
PERRY  HARRINGTON'S  CRIME. 

"To  business  now,  Pietro,  and  be  brief.  Are  you  cer 
tain  no  one  saw  you  follow  me  to  this  room?" 

"Sure,  Signer,  in  my-a  deesguise  how  you-a  call,  eet 
would  be-a  hard  to  say-a  Pietro  who-a  he  ees." 

"Well,  well;  but  to  the  point.  From  our  former  con 
versation  I  made  it  clear  to  you  that  this  child,  the  heir  to 
the  Beaumont  fortune,  must  disappear  to-night.  You 
follow  me?" 

"Yes-a,  Signer." 

"Are  you  fully  prepared  to  undertake  the  affair  at  the 
price  named?" 

"If  eet-a  was  not-a  so,  Pietro  would-a  not  come-a  to 
night." 

"And  the  arrangements  for  getting  him  away,  thd 
place  of  hiding,  are  all  complete?" 

"Eet  ees  all-right.  The  nurse,  what-a  you  call-a 
Stella,  she  ees  a  fren,  she-a  help  me-a  out,  show  me-a 
once  a  stairway  up-a  an  down  so  I  take-a  zee  leetle  boy. 
You-a  can  trust  Pietro.  An-a, — a — zee  mon?" 

"The  what?" 

"Zee  mon  for  what-a  you  call-a  zee  job." 

"0  yes.  Our  agreement  was  five  hundred  dollars, 
half  down  when  you  made  the  attempt,  the  remainder 
when  you  had  successfully  placed  the  child  where  even 


8  A  GENTLEMAN  BORN. 

the  most  astute  of  the  lynx-eyed  detectives  could  not  find 
him.  Here  is  the  first  installment,"  and  Perry  counted 
out  the  crisp  new  bills  into  the  hand  of  the  avaricious 
Italian  whose  eyes  greedily  devoured  each  addition  to  the 
pile,  while  Perry  ever  and  anon  cast  an  anxious  glance 
around  to  make  sure  that  no  unbidden  gaze  watched  the 
unlawful  proceeding. 

"Ah,  that-a  ees  worzy  of-a  great-a  Milor  you-a  will 
be-a.  Pietro  will-a  serve  you  well-a  for  sure." 

"For  the  balance  of  the  money,  meet  me  to-morrow  at 
the  place  where  the  contract  was  made.  Now  for  the 
final  instructions.  Conceal  yourself  near  the  conserva 
tory;  and  when  Mrs.  Beaumont  sends  for  the  nurse,  that 
is  your  cue  to  go  to  the  nursery.  You  understand?" 

"Yes-a,  Milor/' 

"Now  leave  me." 

Alone  in  the  apartment,  this  arch-conspirator  in  one 
of  the  most  dastardly  plots  ever  conceived  or  executed  in 
high  or  low  life,  gazed  for  a  moment  nonchalantly  about 
the  place.  It  had  been  the  study  or  sanctum  of  Clarence 
Beaumont  during  his  brief  married  life.  Perry  was 
familiar  with  every  nook  and  corner  of  the  house  and 
more  especially  of  this  room  where  he  had  spent  many  a 
social  evening  with  his  chum,  invariably  coming  to  him 
when  his  allowance  was  overdrawn  or  when  he  had  be 
come  involved  in  some  difficulty  out  of  which  Clarence 
was  always  ready  to  help  him;  for  Clarence  was  of  a 
steady  sober  temperament  nor  had  he  wasted  his  sub 
stance  in  riotous  living;  but  settled  down  early  in  life, 
marrying  the  lady  of  his  heart's  devotion,  the  belle  of  the 
season,  bringing  her  home  to  this  magnificently  ap 
pointed  residence  on  Madison  Avenue. 

Now,  Clarence  being  scarcely  two  years  dead,  this 
man,  once  his  friend,  is  seeking  the  hand  and  fortune  of 


PERRY  BARRINGTOWS  CRIME.  9 

the  widow  and  planning  to  abduct  the  only  child,  a  boy  of 
three  years,  to  whom  in  trust  the  bulk  of  the  Beaumont 
millions  had  been  bequeathed. 

There  was  life  and  gaiety  galore  at  the  home  of  the 
fascinating  widow  Beaumont  to-night  and  with  reason. 
The  palatial  residence,  closed  to  society  for  two  long 
dreary  years,  during  which  period  it  seemed  that  the 
radiant  orb  of  the  social  world  had  lost  some  of  its  wonted 
lustre,  was  opened  now  with  the  dazzling  splendor  of  a 
Fancy  Dress  Ball. 

For  some  weeks  previous,  decorators  had  been  let  loose 
in  the  mansion,  transforming  the  drawing-room,  the  ball 
room  and  the  banquet  hall  into  miracles  of  splendor. 
While  the  conservatory  opening  from  the  ball-room,  was 
in  itself  a  fairy  wonderland  with  artificial  fountains 
playing  in  almost  natural  rockery,  clusters  of  palms, 
exotics  and  ferns  grouped  here  and  there,  and  the  tiniest 
of  fairy  lamps  gleaming  everywhere  through  the  foliage. 

Perry  did  not  tarry  long  in  the  room  which  was 
fraught  with  so  many  recollections  of  his  former  friend. 
The  last  of  the  guests  had  assembled  when  he  made  his 
way  back  to  the  drawing-room;  and  his  mind,  although 
preoccupied  with  the  dangerous  game  he  was  to  play  that 
night,  was  captivated  by  the  scene  before  him. 

There  were  ladies  from  the  Court  of  the  gay  Louis 
XIV.,  courtiers  of  the  merry  monarch  Charles  II., 
mingling  with  the  more  sober  dames  from  Holland, 
monks  in  gown  and  cowl,  and  pretty  pious  nuns.  Eepre- 
sentatives  from  the  Court  of  Eome  were  there,  from 
Berlin,  Vienna  and  St.  Petersburg;  all  chatting  together 
as  though  an  international  alliance  had  suddenly  been 
proclaimed  among  the  great  powers  of  the  world. 

Perry  himself,  whose  form  and  bearing  could  not  be 
mistaken  under  the  disguise  of  a  Eussian  nobleman,  was 


10  A  GENTLEMAN  BORN. 

the  centre  of  all  eyes  as  he  entered.  For  it  was  an  open 
secret  among  the  chosen  set  that  his  ardent  attentions 
were  directed  to  the  widow  Beaumont;  and  many  a  fond 
mother  who  knew  of  his  escapades  in  the  past,  thanked 
her  stars  that  her  daughter  had  escaped  from  his  meshes. 

"Ah,  mon  cher  Comte,  I  am  so  delighted  to  meet  you 
here !"  exclaimed  a  dashing  demoiselle  in  the  costume  of 
a  French  flower  lass.  "You  surely  recognize  me;  these 
disguises  are  simply  ridiculous,  aren't  they?" 

"Some  may  be,  but  yours  is  stunningly  becoming,  by 
Jove !"  replied  the  flatterer,  casting  an  admiring  glance 
into  the  deep  blue  eyes  which  were  peeping  from  under 
the  domino. 

"Do  you  really  mean  it?  I  must  give  you  a  flower; 
which  will  you  choose?  No,  I  will  select  one  for  you. 
Here  is  a  lovely  chrysanthemum.  It's  not  your  flower,  I 
know;  but  it's  not  so  far  from  the  Eussias — the  emblem 
of  the  flowery  Kingdom,  you  know." 

"Thanks,  awfully.  I  shall  wear  it  in  fond  remem 
brance." 

"Say,  Perry,"  whispered  the  young  miss  as  she  lingered 
over  the  task  of  adjusting  the  flower,  "don't  you  think 
it  an  awful  shame  that  the  gentlemen  are  thronging  about 
our  dashing  hostess,  and  she  so  lately  a  widow, — poor 
Clarence !" 

"Damn  Clarence  and  the  rest  of  them!"  muttered 
Perry,  Then  aloud:  "Where  is  she?  I  have  been  look 
ing  for  her  ever  since  I  arrived." 

"0,  she's  down  there  at  the  end  of  the  room.  Shall  I 
summon  a  Guard  of  Musketeers  to  open  the  pathway  for 
you?" 

"No,  thanks,  I  shall  seek  her  presently." 

"Well,  good  bye.  I  must  dispose  of  my  flowers  before 
the  dance." 


PERRT  BARRINGTOW8  CRIME.  11 

"Don't  say  adieu,  it's  au  revoir,  mademoiselle;  I'll  see 
you  again,  Flossie  dear." 

Then  he  strode  leisurely  through  the  room  unheeding 
the  jocular  remarks  made  at  his  expense  by  some  youth 
ful  cads  of  famous  ancestry,  towards  the  place  where  his 
adored  one  had  established  herself  among  a  coterie  of  the 
most  distinguished  ladies  and  gentlemen.  She  noted 
his  approach  and  her  pulse  beat  more  quickly;  but  no 
outward  sign  indicated  her  emotion. 

Marvelously  beautiful  she  was  to-night.  Four  years  of 
wedded  life  and  two  of  widowhood  had  not  diminished 
that  singular  beauty  which  at  first  attracted  Clarence 
Beaumont.  Her  figure  was  more  clearly  defined  with  the 
maternal  grace  of  womanhood.  Her  complexion  was  still 
clear  and  transparent,  and  her  large,  violet  eyes  had  lost 
none  of  their  deep,  rich  lustre;  at  times  innocent  as  the 
fawn;  again,  when  moved  by  passion  or  excitement, 
dancing  with  sparkling  brilliancy.  It  was  no  wonder  that 
a  bevy  of  gentlemen  were  about  her,  grateful  for  her 
lightest  smile  to-night,  willing  to  unite  their  lives  and 
fortunes  with  her  own,  taking  herself  and  her  child  to  their 
honorable  embrace.  Ah,  if  she  had  but  known  and 
chosen  wisely,  how  different  would  have  been  the  fate  of 
the  boy  Guyon!  But  she  told  herself  that  her  future 
weal  or  woe  was  bound  irretrievably  with  Perry  Barring- 
ton. 

Gowned  with  faultless  taste  as  a  princess  of  the  royal 
house  of  France,  a  tiara  of  diamonds  above  the  wealth  of 
golden  hair,  her  appearance  appealed  to  the  sensuous 
heart  of  her  lover  as  he  advanced  to  her  side,  the  throng 
parting  involuntarily  to  give  him  place.  It  was  only 
when  he  stood  there  at  last  that  Mrs.  Beaumont  ap 
peared  conscious  of  his  presence. 

"A  type  of  perfect  manhood,"  she  said  to  herself.     Still, 


1$  A  GENTLEMAN  BORN. 

to  the  unbiased  observer  traces  of  a  life  of  dissipation 
were  discernible  on  his  countenance.  He  was  tall  with 
somewhat  of  a  military  bearing,  his  complexion  shaded  by 
a  heavy  beard,  carefully  trimmed  in  the  imperial  style, 
while  a  heavy  moustache  concealed  a  mouth  at  the  same 
time  weak  and  passionate.  His  cold,  steel  gray  eyes  were 
strangely  restless  except  when,  as  to-night,  they  looked 
into  the  violet  depth  of  his  loved  one's,  when  they 
seemed  to  catch  a  spark  from  hers,  and  flash  the  fulness 
of  his  passion. 

"Ah,  you  have  come  at  last,"  she  said ;  "and  in  such  a 
costume — still,  on  the  whole,  it  it  not  so  unbecoming,  pro 
viding  that  your  humor  be  not  unbearably  bearish." 

"I  have  nothing  but  apologies  for  my  tardy  appearance 
at  your  court,  so  please  your  highness.  As  to  my  cos 
tume,  I  would  have  chosen  the  character  of  the  illustrious 
:head  of  your  house  did  I  not  imagine  that  my  friend 
Brewster  here  could  have  more  graciously  assumed  it." 

"Well  said,  Mr.  Barrington,  but  at  what  shrine  have 
you  been  already  worshiping?  "We  ladies  of  France  are 
jealous,  you  know.  A  chrysanthemum !  Ah,  that  is  good 
enough  for  a  Eussian;  still,  if  you  sojourn  at  our  court, 
you  must  change  it  for  the  Fleur  de  Lis." 

"Most  noble  lady,"  said  Perry,  "your  lightest  wish  is  a 
command.  Behold,  I  lay  the  emblem  of  the  flowery  king 
dom  at  your  feet,  only  too  delighted  to  assume  in  its  place 
your  own  national  flower." 

"It  is  well;  but  hearken!  The  strains  of  music  greet 
us  from  the  ball-room.  And  see,  the  heralds  announce 
the  dance.  Ladies  and  gentlemen,  we  release  you  from 
your  devoted  allegiance  and  must  ourself  assume  forth 
with  the  duties  of  hostess." 

Even  as  she  spoke  the  great  doors  of  the  ball-room  were 
thrown  open  and  a  flood  of  brilliancy  streamed  from  the 


PEERT  BARRING  TON1 8  CRIME.  13 

place.  It  was  only  one  of  the  many  surprises  of  the  even 
ing  ;  and  the  guests,  attracted  by  the  lively  strains  and  by 
the-  summons  from  the  heralds,  thronged  into  the  spacious 
apartment.  The  highly  polished  floor  reflected  the  light 
from  a  dozen  or  more  chandeliers,  which  were  in  turn  aug 
mented  by  four  massive  candelabra.  At  one  end  the 
musicians  were  concealed  by  a  natural  screen  made  of 
maiden  hair  fern  and  lilies  of  the  valley;  while  at  the 
other,  through  a  transparent  curtain  of  trailing  plants  and 
violets,  one  could  catch  a  glimpse  of  the  conservatory.  It 
was  all  a  dream  of  richness  enhanced  a  hundredfold  by 
the  varied  colors  of  the  costumes  which  the  stately  motion 
of  the  minuet  brought  out  in  pleasing  relief. 

"You  have  a  dance  in  reserve  for  me?"  said  Perry,  as 
he  escorted  the  dashing  widow  to  the  ball-room. 

"A  dance?  rather  late  in  asking  when  they  are  even 
now  waiting  for  me  there." 

"I  know  that  I'm  late,  confound  it — I'm  always  late 
when  my  interest  is  at  stake/'  replied  Perry. 

"Poor  boy,  if  I  were  certain  that  the  chrysanthemum 
had  not  detained  you,  I  might  show  a  little  compassion  this 
once." 

"You  saw  me  in  conversation  with  the  flower  girl?" 

"Yes,  and  thank  heaven  it  was  not  the  real,  genuine  arti 
cle,  eh,  Perry,  considering  that  it  was  only  Floy,  and  that 
she  fancies  you  love  her." 

"I  love  her?    Nonsense!" 

"Why,"  continued  Mrs.  Beaumont,  pursuing  her  light 
raillery  simply  for  her  own  amusement  and  to  draw  out 
her  companion's  sentiments,  "Florence  Boughton  is  a 
charming  young  lady,  only  out  this  season  you  know." 

"So  much  the  better  for  her;  everything  being  equal, 
she  will  break  a  score  of  hearts  before  she  seeks  the  golden 
fetters  of  wedlock." 


14  A  GENTLEMAN  BORN. 

"You  are  cynical  to-night,  Perry,  and  I  have  a  great 
fancy  to  leave  you  to  your  own  devices/' 

"Pray  do  not  leave  me,  or  if  you  will — kiss  me  before 
we  part.  See  the  last  couple  has  left  the  room,  we  are 
alone." 

"So  we  are;  and  for  that  reason  I  must  hasten  to  the 
dance.  No,  not  a  kiss!  You  are  really  too  bad;  but  I 
will  give  you  the  next  best  thing — a  dance.  Which  shall 
it  be?" 

"Beggars  cannot  be  choosers,  so  I  must  submit  to  be  sat 
isfied  with  a  valse." 

"A  valse  it  shall  be — the  third,"  she  said,  hurriedly  giv 
ing  him  her  program ;  upon  which  he  inscribed  his  name 
in  the  only  two  vacant  places  remaining. 

The  interval  during  the  first  and  second  dances  passed 
all  too  slowly  for  Perry.  So  preoccupied  was  he  in  the 
work  which  he  had  mapped  out  for  himself  that  night, 
that  his  partners  were  astonished  at  his  ungallant  be 
havior  and  his  generally  abstracted  air,  something  un 
usual  in  him,  since  he  always  posed  as  a  brilliant 
dancer. 

At  last  the  notes  of  one  of  the  famous  valses  of  the  day 
were  heard.  He  was  at  the  side  of  his  loved  one,  while 
she,  all  animation  from  the  excitement  which  had  been 
her  one  absorbing  passion  in  the  happy  girlhood  days, 
greeted  him  with  one  of  her  most  fascinating  smiles.  It 
is  needless  to  say  that  this,  the  first  dance  of  the  evening 
with  the  charming  widow,  served  to  quicken  his  already 
high  strung  passion.  The  easy  swing  of  the  music,  the 
very  grace  of  the  motion,  the  beauty  of  her  whom  he  led 
through  the  mazes,  whom  he  held  so  near  to  him  that  he 
could  almost  feel  the  quick  pulsations  of  her  heart,  all  this 
carried  him  for  the  moment  to  a  realm  of  untold  delights, 
to  some  paradise  of  bliss. 


PERRY  BARRINGTON'3  CRIME.  15 

"Oh,  I  am  so  thoroughly  exhausted,"  she  murmured, 
as  the  music  ceased  for  an  interval;  and  she  averted  her 
gaze  to  avoid  the  passionate  glance  with  which  his  eyes 
were  bent  upon  her. 

"Are  you,  dearest?  Come  then,  let  us  rest  for  a  while 
in  the  conservatory  before  the  other  couples  intrude  upon 
that  fairy  retreat." 

"As  you  wish,  Perry.  Do  you  know  I  feel  that  some 
thing  dreadful  will  happen  to-night." 

"It  is  only  your  excited  nerves,  the  strain  of  the  even 
ing  has  been  too  great  an  ordeal  for  you.  See,  here  is  a 
rustic  nook  beneath  the  spreading  branches  of  the  palms. 
May  I  get  you  an  ice  or  a  cooling  drink  ?" 

"No,  I  thank  you.     I  will  sit  here  and  rest." 

"And  I  will  recline  at  your  feet  on  this  grassy  mound, 
if  you  will  permit  me." 

"As  though  there  were  need  of  asking?  You  will  sit 
where  you  wish,  I  presume." 

"Nowhere  but  at  your  feet  to-night,  dearest." 

"Why  do  you  address  me  so?  You  do  not  seem  to  be 
your  own  self  to-night,  Perry.  Do  you  remember  the  old 
days  when  Clarence  was  alive?  What  happy  evenings  we 
passed  together,  he  and  you  and  I." 

"Yes,  good,  dear  old  fellow.  I  have  been  thinking  of 
him  to-night  and  of  something  he  said  to  me  once  shortly 
before  he  was  taken  ill." 

"Do  tell  me,  Perry ;  was  it  about  me  ?  Why  didn't  you 
tell  me  before?" 

"Why,  because  I  did  not  dare  to.  Because,  in  your  se 
clusion,  you  seemed  too  sacred  a  being  for  my  unworthy 
self  to  intrude  upon." 

"Was  it  about  you?"  she  asked,  and  her  heart  beat  a 
little  more  quickly  as  a  glimmering  of  the  possible  mean 
ing  dawned  upon  her. 


16  A  GENTLEMAN  BORN. 

"Yes,  about  me — and — and  you.  We  had  been  sitting 
together  in  his  study,  smoking  and  talking  of  the  old  times 
when  we  were  college  boys.  When,  suddenly,  as  though  a 
presentiment  of  his  approaching  death  had  risen  before 
him,  he  grasped  my  hand,  saying  in  a  voice  I  shall  never 
forget:  'Perry,  old  fellow,  I  have  a  strange  warning 
that  I  am  not  long  for  this  world.  It  is  sad  to  go,  leav 
ing  my  wife  and  my  son,  my  Guyon,  alone  just  when  all 
appears  bright  and  radiant  for  the  future.  Perry,  if  any 
thing  should  happen  to  me,  promise  me  that  you  will  be 
a  father  to  my  child.  I  feel  that  I  can  trust  both  him  and 
Muriel  to  your  care  and  protection/  '' 

"Did  he  say  that?"  she  asked,  while  her  eyes  were  suf 
fused  with  tears. 

"He  did,  and  although  I  endeavored  to  rouse  him  out  of 
the  melancholy  which  affected  him,  he  persisted  in  his  re 
quest  until  I  complied,  little  thinking  then  that  the  hour 
of  its  fulfillment  would  ever  arrive." 

There  was  a  moment's  silence  during  which  the  lively 
strains  from  the  ball-room  filling  the  place,  contrasted 
strangely  with  the  feelings  of  this  ill-fated  couple;  she 
becoming  more  and  more  convinced  that  the  only  man  in 
every  way  suited  to  take  her  husband's  place  was  there  at 
her  feet;  he  acting  his  part  with  the  hypocrisy  and  sham 
of  an  accomplished  villain. 

"Muriel,"  he  said  at  length,  breaking  the  silence,  "if 
I  did  not  love  you  at  that  time  it  was  because  of  the  insur 
mountable  barrier  which  parted  us.  Now,  it  has  been 
withdrawn  by  the  unseen  power  which  guides  our  des 
tinies.  I  worship  you;  and  in  the  fulfillment  of  my 
promise  to  Clarence,  I  but  satisfy  the  intense  longing  of 
my  heart.  Muriel,  my  whole  heart's  love  is  yours !  Will 
be  my  wife  ?" 


PERRY  BARRING  TON1 8  CRIME.  17 

"Oh,  Perry,  it  all  so  sudden,  so  soon  after  my  mourn 
ing,  the  first  night  that  I  have  appeared  in  society." 

"What  matter,  if  you  love  me,  darling !"  he  exclaimed, 
rising  and  taking  a  seat  beside  her. 

"If  I  love  you?  Oh  yes,  there  is  no  need  of  asking 
that  question;  but  you  will  wait  a  little  longer?" 

"Wait?  Have  I  not  been  waiting  hungry  for  your 
love  and  thirsting  during  two  long  years?" 

"Hush,  Perry,  it  sounds  like  a  sacrilege  to  talk  in  that 
strain." 

"But  I  must  talk.  Forgive  me,  darling,  it  is  my  love 
not  my  better  judgment  which  prompts  me.  Say  that 
you  will  give  me  the  right  to  protect  you  and  your  son." 

"It  shall  be  as  you  wish,"  she  answered  softly;  "but  it 
must  not  be  known  for  a  year  at  least." 

"My  darling,  my  own!"  he  whispered,  imprinting  a 
passionate  kiss  upon  her  lips.  "And  now  that  you  are 
mine,  I  must  ask  you  to  grant  me  still  another  boon." 

"Anything  and  everything,  providing  it  be  not  too  ex 
travagant,  you  naughty  boy.  Can  you  imagine  the  happi 
ness  you  have  brought  into  my  life?" 

"To  some  extent,  yes.  Now  I  want  to  see  my  future 
eon  to-night." 

"What  a  strange  request!  it  is  so  late.  He  is  asleep 
in  the  nursery,  you  know ;  and  besides  you  can  see  him  to 
morrow." 

"Certainly ;  still  I  have  not  seen  him  in  so  long  a  time. 
You  won't  refuse  me  this." 

"It  is  difficult  to  refuse  you  anything.  How  strange 
that  you  should  have  taken  such  a  fancy  to  Guyon !  And 
yet,  I  remember  how  he  used  to  worship  you  in  his  in 
fant  way.  Oh,  he  is  a  great  boy  now !  Why,  he  is  three 
years  old,  and  some  day,  if  he  lives,  he  will  have  all  the 
Beaumont  fortune.  Do  you  mind,  Perry?" 


18  A  GENTLEMAN  BORN. 

"Not  in  the  least,  providing  that  I  have  you.  We  shall 
not  starve  at  all  events." 

"That  is  spoken  like  a  grand,  dear  old  fellow  as  you  are. 
Well,  if  you  will  be  so  good  as  to  find  Hastings,  the 
butler,  and  tell  him  that  I  wish  to  see  the  nurse,  perhaps 
I  may  coax  her  to  let  my  boy  come  to  me.  She  is  a 
great  tyrant  here,  is  nurse." 

"You  will  not  be  lonely  in  my  absence?" 

"Oh  no,  dear,  I  shall  be  surrounded  with  happy  memories. 
And  see,  the  guests  are  beginning  to  invade  our  holy 
place!  I  shall  not  be  long  alone." 

Perry  stole  one  more  ardent  kiss  and  left  the  conserva 
tory.  On  his  way  to  find  Hastings,  he  met  the  Italian  to 
whom  he  gave  a  secret  signal  to  be  about  his  work.  The 
latter  evidently  understood  for  he  vanished  instantly. 

The  butler  was  a  little  grumpy  about  being  disturbed 
in  the  enjoyment  of  his  choice  potation;  but  his  mistress 
was  the  idol  of  his  life  and  her  wish  was  a  command.  So 
he  hastened  to  summon  the  nurse.  Strolling  leisurely 
through  the  ball-room,  where  the  guests  were  now  grouped 
about  chatting  and  gossiping,  Barrington  exchanged  a  few 
remarks  with  his  most  intimate  friends,  and  entered  the 
conservatory  just  as  the  nurse  was  leaving. 

By  some  strange  coincidence,  a  rumor  had  been  circu 
lated  to  the  effect  that  the  most  surprising  event  of  the 
evening  was  about  to  be  witnessed;  that  the  heir  to  the 
Beaumont  millions  was  to  appear  at  this  unseasonable  hour. 
Of  course  there  were  some  who  cried  dowa  the  idea  as 
preposterous. 

"What,  bring  a  child  of  three  years  out  of  his  cozy  bed 
at  so  unseemly  an  hour  ?  It  is  ridiculous  in  the  extreme !" 

But  the  majority,  alert  for  novelty  of  any  description, 
thronged  to  the  conservatory  from  which  they  had  seen 
the  nurse  emerge.  Hence  it  was  that  when  Perry 


PERRY  BARRINGTON'8  CRIME.  19 

sought  his  beloved,  he  found  that  half  of  the  gay  ladies 
with  their  cavaliers  were  converging  to  the  same  spot. 

Chattering  like  so  many  magpies,  grouped  here  and 
there  among  the  exotic  plants  and  the  palms,  the  fantastic 
light  from  a  thousand  tiny  lanterns  and  fairy  lamps 
playing  upon  the  rich  costumes,  the  guests  made  a 
striking  picture.  In  the  midst,  sitting  upon  the  rustic 
settee  where  he  had  left  her,  and  little  dreaming  of  the 
tragedy  about  to  be  enacted,  was  Mrs.  Beaumont,  radiant 
in  her  new-found  happiness,  musing  on  the  halcyon 
days  of  bliss  in  store. 

"I  have  delivered  your  message,  dearest  one,"  he  said. 

"Yes,  and  it  has  been  quickly  answered.  Nurse  has 
come  and  departed.  It  was  well  you  were  not  here  to 
share  the  fury  of  her  awakened  ire  when  I  made  the  start 
ling  proposition.  Only  my  most  persuasive  eloquence 
could  induce  her  to  yield." 

"She  did  finally  yield?" 

"Oh,  yes.  I  am  mistress  here,  you  know;  but,  Perry, 
why  are  the  guests  thronging  hither?  Has  the  dancing 
come  to  an  end,  or  has  something  unexpected  happened?" 

"That  is  the  question  I  have  asked  myself,  darling. 
See,  here  comes  a  deputation  of  our  own  set,  let  us  hear 
what  have  they  to  say." 

At  the  same  moment  a  bevy  of  charming  girls  fairly 
rushed  in  upon  the  loving  couple. 

"A  thousand  pardons  for  intruding!"  exclaimed  one. 
"Is  it  true  that  your  darling  Guyon  is  about  to  appear? 
Everyone  says  so,  but  no  one  can  vouch  for  the  truth  of 
the  rumor." 

"It  is  true,"  replied  Mrs.  Beaumont;  "just  a  little  sur 
prise  of  mine,  you  know,  which  was  not  to  have  been 
bruited  abroad  until  he  was  in  our  midst.  He  begged  so 
hard  to  see  'the  pitty  folk'  I  could  not  refuse  him," 


20  A  GENTLEMAN  BORN. 

"Then  it  is  true.  Oh,  how  good  of  you,  Muriel!" 
cried  a  dashing  belle;  and  the  trio  pranced  off  to  convey 
the  assured  intelligence  to  the  expectant  groups. 

Almost  at  the  same  time  the  nurse  reappeared,  alone, 
her  countenance  blanched  with  well-feigned  terror.  Burst 
ing  through  the  crowd  which  sought  to  detain  her  with 
every  manner  of  question,  she  rushed  to  where  Barrington 
and  the  young  widow  were,  and  fell  at  the  tetter's  feet 
exclaiming : 

"Have  pity,  madame,  le  bon  Dieu,  pity !" 

"What  has  happened?"  cried  Mrs.  Beaumont,  rising 
excitedly. 

"Miserecore,  madame,  zee  chile,  le  bon  gargon  ees 
gone!  No  vere  can  I  fine  'im." 

"My  boy  gone,  my  Guyon!  Oh,  Perry,  what  shall  I 
do?  My  God,  my  God!"  and  she  fell  unconscious  into 
her  lover's  arms. 

There  was  not  time  for  sentiment  now.  Only  the 
most  subtle  acting  on  Perry's  part  could  save  him  in  the 
dread  crisis.  He  was  assured  that  both  his  schemes  had 
prospered.  If  his  had  been  the  heart  to  feel  a  momentary 
pang  of  remorse  as  the  woman  who  had  given  to  him  all 
the  purest  affection  of  her  soul  lay  there  unconscious  on 
his  breast,  the  idea  that  the  stakes  were  the  highest,  that 
his  own  ample  fortune  was  completely  wasted,  and  that 
his  creditors  would  be  hot  on  his  chase  on  the  morrow,  was 
sufficient  to  banish  it  all;  as  it  was,  his  only  sentiment 
was  one  of  elation.  Still  he  was  obliged  to  assume  the 
character  of  protector  of  his  fiancee  and  of  her  child,  and 
he  prepared  himself  for  the  emergency.  Hastily  sum 
moning  some  of  the  more  level-headed  of  the  ladies 
present,  he  committed  the  unconscious  widow  to  their 
care.  Then  before  a  party  of  all  the  men  assembled 


PERRY  BARRING  TON'S  GRIME.  21 

who  were  eager  for  the  facts  of  the  case,  he  questioned 
the  maid. 

"Tell  us,  Stella,  if  you  can,  what  has  happened.  No, 
do  not  look  to  your  mistress,  she  is  in  good  keeping.  Be 
truthful,  for  you  may  have  to  answer  before  a, tribunal 
of  justice  for  the  child's  abduction." 

"Truthful,  you  say,  sir?  Yees,  I  tell  zee  trut,  all  I 
know,"  she  answered  doggedly,  her  eyes  averted  from  his. 
"Ven  I  come  down,  zee  gargon  he  sleep  so  beautiful,  so 
like  un  ange,  hees  leetle  hand  under  zee  tete  so;  and  ven 
I  return,  zee  bed  it  vas  zare,  mais  le  Guyon,  mon  beau  gar- 
c,on,  he  ees  gone." 

"Gentlemen,"  said  Barrington,  "you  hear  the  nurse's 
story.  You  may  believe  as  much  of  it  as  you  wish. 
Nothing  remains  but  to  search  the  house.  I  who  am  bet 
ter  acquainted  with  it  perhaps  than  any  of  you,  will 
lead  the  way." 

In  the  nursery  everything  was  found  as  the  nurse  had 
described.  The  tiny  couch  lately  occupied,  now  vacant. 
No  sign  of  struggle  was  there.  No  cry  could  be  heard, 
not  even  the  sound  of  a  footstep  as  they  Searched  the  ad 
joining  apartments,  the  suite  occupied  by  Mrs.  Beaumont, 
the  guest  chambers,  the  most  remote  and  unused  parts  of 
the  house,  and  finally  the  servants'  quarters;  and  no  trace 
of  the  boy  Guyon  was  discovered. 

Dismayed,  convinced  that  an  awful  crime,  an  abduction 
had  been  perpetrated,  the  men  descended  to  the  so  lately 
dazzling,  happy  ball-room,  and  to  the  conservatory,  where 
now  all  was  hushed  in  the  subdued  excitement  attendant 
upon  the  return  of  the  widow  to  consciousness.  She  rec 
ognized  Perry  as  he  approached,  and  with  a  cry  embraced 
him. 

"My  boy,  my  Guyon,  you  have  found  him?" 

"Try  to  compose  yourself,  my  precious  one,"  he  whis- 


22  A  GENTLEMAN  BORN. 

pered.  "I  have  not  found  him,  your  son  is  gone;  but  it 
is  not  too  late  to  put  forth  our  highest  endeavors  in  the 
search  for  him.  With  your  permission  I  will  dismiss  the 
guests,  then  communicate  with  the  Central  detective 
office,  and  in  a  few  moments  the  most  expert  of  the  force 
will  be  scouring  the  city  and  the  country." 

"Do  you  think  that  he  may  be  found,  Perry?  Oh,  tell 
me  that  he  will !" 

"What  man  can  do,  shall  be  done,  Muriel.  If  it  be 
possible,  Guyon  shall  be  with  us  in  twenty-four  hours." 

"God  be  thanked,  and  Clarence,  for  giving  me  so  good, 
so  true  a  man  as  you  in  the  hour  of  my  direful  need! 
Now  do  as  you  think  best." 

Quietly  and  with  many  expressions  of  sympathy  for 
the  doubly  bereaved  widow,  the  guests  departed.  Bar- 
rington  communicated  with  the  Chief  of  Police,  and  a  re 
ward  of  twenty-five  thousand  dollars  was  offered  for  the 
return  of  the  heir  to  the  Beaumont  millions.  Instantly 
the  most  expert  sleuths  from  the  police  department  were> 
out  in  the  search — all  sorts  of  clews  were  found  and  fol 
lowed  up,  and  amounted  to  nothing.  The  nurse,  Stella,, 
was  placed  in  durance  for  a  time,  but  as  no  evidence  of; 
the  crime  could  be  adduced  against  her,  she  was  allowed! 
to  go  free. 

The  plot  was  too  cleverly  laid.  The  police  authorities 
were  obliged  to  confess  themselves  baffled.  The  reward 
was  doubled,  but  no  one  appeared  to  claim  it;  for  Guyon 
Beaumont  had  passed  from  the  home  of  his  birth  into  so 
low  a  stage  of  existence  that  he  became  as  an  atom,  a 
nonentity  in  the  vast  cosmopolitan  community  of  New 
York. 


THE  »  VARSITY  LION.  23 


CHAPTER  I. 
THE  'VARSITY  LION. 

"RAH  !  Rah  Rah ! 
Rah!  Rah!  Rah! 
Rah!  Rah!  Rah !— Harvard !" 

"Three  cheers  for  Mac!" 

"Three  times  three  and  a  tiger  for  our  full-back !" 

"Hold  on,  fellows,  please  leave  out  the  tiger;  he  isn't 
in  it  with  us,  you  know." 

"Well  put,  Mac.  Up  with  him,  boys,  up  with  him! 
fall-in  for  the  Campus." 

"For  he's  a  jolly  good  fellow, 
For  he's  a  jolly  good  fellow, 
For  he's  a  jolly  good  fellow, 
.That  nobody  can  deny." 

Never  did  a  more  frolicsome,  hilarious  and  jovial 
crowd  tumble  from  the  New  York  Express  at  the  Cam 
bridge  station,  than  the  'Varsity  Eleven,  on  a  certain 
November  evening,  after  having  defeated  the  boastful 
Tigers  on  the  Manhattan  field. 

Guyon  McCarty,  a  junior  of  marked  ability,  high  in  the 
estimation  of  his  professors  because  of  his  splendid  class 
work,  higher  still  in  the  affections  of  his  fellow  students  by 
reason  of  his  rare  skill  in  all  athletic  sports,  had  been 
chosen  full-back  in  the  crucial  test  for  championship  in 
the  all-absorbing  game  of  foot-ball. 

Nor  had  his  selection  belied  their  confidence.  Never 
in  the  'Varsity  Annals  had  the  struggle  been  more  severe. 


24  A  GENTLEMAN  BORN. 

The  Tigers  were  out  to  win.  Their  rooters,  resplendent  in 
orange  and  black,  fairly  exhausted  their  lung  power  in 
shouts  of  encouragement,  while  Harvard's  luck  seemed 
on  the  wane.  Then  it  was  that  a  remarkable  feat  of 
punting  on  the  part  of  McCarty,  followed  by  another,  and 
still  another,  aroused  the  sleeping  energy  of  the  'Varsity 
rooters.  The  tide  of  fortune  turned,  and  the  Tigers  were 
forced  to  leave  the  field  defeated. 

No  wonder  then  that  "Mac"  was  the  lion  of  the  hour. 
No  marvel  that,  as  the  procession  entered  the  grand  old 
Campus,  professors  and  students  alike  thronged  around; 
that  Guyon  was  pulled  off  the  shoulders  of  the  stalwart 
captain  and  the  half-back,  hugged,  hustled  and  con 
gratulated;  until,  by  one  of  his  feints  which  had  won  him 
fame  on  the  field,  he  dashed  through  the  crowd,  and,  rush 
ing  into  his  room,  made  his  solitude  secure  by  bolting  the 
door. 

He  threw  himself  into  a  comfortable  chair,  lighted  the 
ever  ready  pipe,  and  settled  down  to  what  he  called  a  quiet 
evening  with  one  of  his  favorite  authors  for  a  companion. 

Not  a  bad  appearing  chap  was  this  youth  with  an  un 
couth  Irish  name.  His  figure  was  grandly  proportioned, 
every  muscle  developed  through  constant  practice  in 
athletics.  His  face  was  one  not  easily  forgotten.  A 
forehead  suggesting  deep  intellectual  power,  eyes  of  a  dark 
brown  that  snapped  with  latent  fire  under  excitement,  or 
were  sad  almost  to  melancholy  in  repose.  His  nose, 
slightly  Eoman,  betrayed  patrician  birth,  while  his  chin, 
determined  and  resolute,  denoted  determination  of  charac 
ter. 

A  few  whiffs  had  been  pulled,  and  the  fragrance  of  the 
tobacco  just  tinged  the  cold  pure  atmosphere,  when  rap 
after  rap  sounded  on  the  door.  The  lion  was  bearded  in 
his  den. 


THE  »  VARSITY  LION.  25 

McCarty  gave  no  evidence  of  his  existence  as  he  laid 
aside  his  book,  and  a  smile,  half  sad,  half  pleasant  lighted 
his  countenance. 

Again  the  rapping,  lender  than  before. 

"I  say,  Guy,"  cried  a  well-known  voice,  "let  us  in !  We 
fellows  are  bound  to  take  possession  of  you.  Submit 
quietly  and  we'll  let  you  down  easy." 

"I  give  way  to  the  inevitable  under  protest,  boys,"  said 
McCarty,  as  he  opened  the  door  admitting  in  a  rush  the 
juniors,  led  by  his  particular  chum,  Harold  Brandon. 

Indeed,  they  did  take  possession  in  the  fullest  sense  of 
the  word.  Placing  a  chair  upon  the  table,  they  lifted  the 
hero,  willy,  nilly,  thereon,  holding  him  in  position  by 
main  force  until  he  laughingly  yielded. 

"Bring  out  the  pipes  and  'baccy,  Hal,"  said  the  lord 
from  his  exalted  station,  "and  the  wine,  you  know  where  to 
find  it.  Sorry  I  can't  entertain  you  better,  boys." 

"Bother  your  entertainment !"  shouted  Bainbridge, 
the  spokesman  of  the  class,  "we  haven't  come  out  for  that, 
have  we,  boys?" 

"No,  no!"  they  cried  in  a  chorus;  while  the  clouds  of 
tobacco  smoke  began  to  fill  the  room  to  the  point  of 
suffocation. 

"The  fact  is,"  said  Brandon,  who  having  filled  the  glasses, 
all  around,  felt  himself  released  from  the  duties  of  hos 
pitality,  "the  fact  is,  we  have  come  to  announce  your  elec 
tion  as  president  of  the  class,  vacant  by  the  resignation  of 
Hopkins." 

"But  I  was  not  aware  that  Hopkins  had  resigned,"  ex 
claimed  McCarty. 

"Of  course  not,"  Hopkins  himself  replied.  "I  am  merely 
bowing  to  the  will  of  the  majority.  My  term  has  nearly 
expired,  and  I  gracefully  step  down  and  out;  that  is  all 
there  is  to  it." 


26  A  GENTLEMAN  BORN. 

"I  cannot  accept  under  these  conditions,  fellows,  class 
mates " 

"Hear,  hear!"  cried  the  excited  throng. 

"Accept,  Guy,  don't  flunk  so  disgracefully,"  whispered 
Brandon,  who  had  jumped  on  the  table  at  his  chum's  side. 

"Again  I  submit  under  protest,  gentlemen,"  said  Mc- 
Carty,  as  soon  as  quiet  was  restored.  "Words  are  inade 
quate  to  express  my  gratitude  for  this  unexpected  honor. 
I  believe  that  Hopkins  has  filled  the  office  well.  I  don't 
see  why  he  should  be  ousted  for  me;  but  since  you  wish 
it,  I  accept." 

"Three  cheers  for  the  President,  three  cheers  for  Mac, 
The  lion  of  Harvard,  our  grand  full-back. 
Eah!  Eah!  Eah! 
Eah!  Eah!  Eah! 
Eah!  Eah!  Eah !— Harvard !" 

rA  great  night  it  was  for  the  juniors,  and  a  glorious 
time  they  had  for  an  hour  or  so  in  McCarty's  room.  Col 
lege  songs  were  sung.  The  one  never  flagging  theme  of 
interest,  their  victory  over  Princeton,  was  recited  in  all 
its  glowing  colors  with  many  a  joke  and  squib  perpetrated 
at  the  expense  of  the  defeated  Tigers.  At  last  the  assem 
bly  broke  up,  each  insisting  upon  giving  the  "lion's  paw"  a 
hearty  squeeze  as  he  passed  out. 

"Can  you  stay  a  few  moments,  Hal?"  Guyon  asked,  as 
his  chum  lingered  at  the  door. 

"An  hour,  if  you  wish  it,  old  fellow — what's  up?" 

The  query  was  prompted  by  a  shade  of  sadness  he  de 
tected  on  Guyon's  countenance. 

"Sit  down  anywhere.  Have  another  pipe  ?  Do  you 
know,  all  this  sort  of  thing  would  lift  another  chap  to 
the  seventh  heaven;  but  somehow  it  bears  me  down  until 
I  feel  as  though  I  were  bearing  a  ton  of  pig  lead." 


THE  »  VARSITY  LION.  27 

"Blues  again,  Guy !  sorry  for  you,  I  think  honestly  you 
should  see  Doc.  It's  your  liver,  take  my  word  for  it." 

"No,  Hal,  it's  my  past.  Have  you  an  appetite  for  a 
story  ?  I  never  told  you  anything  about  myself,  did  I  ?" 

"Not  a  word.  All  we  fellows  know  is  that  you  are  the 
son  of  the  great  New  York  contractor,  McCarty." 

"Ah,  hut  it's  not  so.  That  was  enough  at  the  start  to 
make  some  of  your  set  shun  me,  although  it's  all  over  now ; 
no,  I  am  only  his  son  by  adoption." 

"Phew ! — fire  away,  Guy — I'm  all  ears  for  your  tale." 

"It's  a  long  one.  Years  ago,  it  seems  ages  to  me,  I 
was  living  in  the  Italian  quarter  on  Mott  Street.  I  was 
about  three  years  of  age  then ;  and  after  a  time  I  was  sent 
with  other  children,  whom  a  padrone  had  brought  over  from 
Italy,  down  on  the  East  Eiver  front,  on  the  refuse  scows, 
to  pick  rags  and  coals.  While  there,  I  met  the  first 
human  being  who  had  spoken  a  kindly  word  to  me,  a  little 
Irish  lad,  Swipsie  Biglin  by  name.  It  was  he  who  once 
picked  me  out  of  a  cloud  of  refuse,  which,  dumped  from  a 
cart  above,  threatened  to  bury  me  alive.  Again,  he 
hustled  me,  just  in  the  nick  of  time,  out  of  the  midst  of 
a  fierce  melee  in  which  the  Irish  and  Italians  were  en 
gaged.  So,  there  sprung  up  between  us  a  friendship 
which  seemed  destined  to  last  for  ever.  But  our  inter 
course  was  suddenly  broken.  The  old  hag,  who  called 
herself  my  mother,  got  wind  of  my  being  with  the  lad, 
and  beat  me  so  severely  that  I  lay  for  weeks  at  death's 
-door.  When  I  recovered,  my  first  gleam  of  reason  sug 
gested  escape.  Well  do  I  recall  the  night.  A  party  of 
the  fiercest  Italians  were  fighting  over  a  prize.  I  ran  out 
from  the  hovel,  through  the  dimly  lighted  alley  and 
down  to  where  I  thought  my  little  Irish  friend  abode. 

"Crossing  the  Bowery,  I  was  nearly  run  down  by  car 
<pr  wagon,  but  was  rescued  by  a  Jewish  peddler  who  took 


28  A   GENTLEMAN  BORN. 

me  down  into  the  famous  Ghetto.  I  will  not  lengthen  my 
story  to  describe  my  life  among  the  Jews  of  the  East  Side, 
my  first  visit  to  their  synagogue,  the  kindly  old  Eabbi  who 
decided  my  fate  for  the  time  being,  by  giving  me  to  the 
master  of  a  sweat-shop,  as  shrewd  and  cunning  an 
Israelite  as  you  will  find  in  many  a  day.  Two  years  were 
passed  in  this  locality,  where  I  was  a  veritable  drudge  as 
far  and  beyond  what  my  years  could  sustain. 

"One  day,  when  I  was  carrying  home  a  bundle  of 
vests,  I  chanced  upon  Biglin.  Neither  recognized  the  other 
at  first;  for  he  had  grown,  and  was  plying  his  trade  as 
a  newsboy,  which  occupation  he  released  at  will  to  steal 
whatever  pleased  his  fancy.  He  had  a  mind  to  appropri 
ate  my  bundle,  and  I  was  for  fighting  him  then  and  there, 
when,  by  some  curious  intuition,  he  discovered  my  iden 
tity.  There  upon,  nothing  would  do  but  that  I  should 
go  with  him  to  his  home  on  Cherry  Street. 

"Thus,  I  drifted  into  the  lowest  class  of  the  Irish  at  that 
day  and  abode  with  Biglin  and  his  surly  old  hag  of  a 
grandmother  in  a  damp  cellar,  subsisting  upon  the  coarsest 
fare,  selling  newspapers  in  the  'row5  as  the  boys  called  it, 
becoming  in  every  sense  of  the  term  a  street  gamin,  until 
better  luck  brought  me  in  contact  with  an  old  Englishman, 
who  kept  a  curiosity  shop  on  Pearl  Street.  It  was  really 
the  smallest  house  I  have  ever  seen.  A  sort  of  triangular 
building,  about  twelve  feet  by  eight,  in  its  widest  part, 
as  I  remember  it,  with  a  dry  cellar  serving  as  kitchen, 
and  a  room  above  the  store  in  which  we  slept. 

"The  old  man  took  a  fancy  to  me,  and  would  have  sent 
me  to  school,  but  I  rebelled.  Street  life  was  fascinating 
to  me.  I  learned  the  lingo,  could  play  craps  as  well  as  any, 
and  in  'scrapping/  I  was  not  afraid  to  face  a  lad  of  my 
size.  Then,  too,  my  Irish  chum  had  taught  me  to 


THE  »  VARSITY  LION.  29 

swim ;  and  in  the  warm  June  days  we  were  the  typical  dock 
rats  you  may  have  heard  of. 

"Well,  my  days  of  freedom  were  numbered.  A  cer 
tain  rich  contractor  who  had  in  his  youth  been  a  lad  of  the 
streets,  and  who  had  grown  up  in  the  shadow  of  the  tiny 
house,  visited  Mr.  Swithers,  my  protector.  He,  too,  was 
attracted  to  me,  and  used  every  persuasion  to  lure  me 
to  his  'illegent  home'  on  Seventy-second  Street.  To  his 
pleading,  my  mentor,  Swipsie,  added  sage  counsel,  bidding 
me  go,  'an'  do  a  song  an'  dance  fer  de  big  mugs/  and 
in  the  end  I  bade  farewell  to  my  associates  and  to  my  life 
among  the  lower  classes,  and  was  advanced  another  step 
to  fortune. 

"I  shall  not  describe  the  contractor's  mansion.  You  may 
see  it  some  day;  for  mother  is  anxious  to  meet  you.  In 
time,  I  grew  accustomed  to  the  surroundings.  Even  the 
luxurious  living  seemed  strangely  natural  to  me.  I  went 
to  the  public  schools,  was  graduated,  and  my  future  was 
settled  at  the  family  tribunal.  I  must  have  a  tutor,  pre 
pare  for  college;  and  at  the  end  of  preparatory  course,  I 
made  my  bow  here.  The  rest  is  familiar  to  you." 

During  the  recital,  Harold  was  silent.  At  first  he 
pulled  vigorously  at  his  briar,  then  removed  it  from  his 
lips,  and  sat  absorbed  in  reverie.  At  the  close,  a  dark 
frown  settled  upon  his  brow. 

"Honest,  Guy,  this  is  no  romance,  you  have  not  worked 
it  up  from  your  fertile  imagination?" 

"As  true  as  gospel,  Hal.  Now  do  you  wonder  that  I  am 
sad,  that  all  these  honors  seem  empty  to  me  when  I  think 
of  my  origin?" 

"Origin  be  hanged!  There  has  been  the  devil's  own 
work  in  your  case,  Guy.  You  are  no  common  street  urchin. 
Thank  the  Lord  the  Irish  contractor  is  not  your  father; 
but confound  it!  I  must  do  something.  I  shall 


30  A  GENTLEMAN  BORN. 

write  the  Pater  to-night.  He  shall  employ  the  ablest 
lawyers  and  the  most  skilled  detectives  on  the  case." 

"Hold  just  for  one  moment,  Hal !  As  you  love  me,  let 
this  story  be  a  secret.  I  believe  that  I  have  been 
wronged,  deeply  wronged;  but  I  feel  that  as  the  histories 
of  nations  and  individuals  have  proven,  the  evil  must 
eventually  right  itself." 

"Nonsense !  do  you  intend  passively  to  submit  to  fate  ?" 

"Not  to  fate,  nor  to  the  perversion  of  fate.  No,  Hal, 
I  have  ability.  I  shall  leave  this  dear  old  place  with 
honor.  With  her  stamp  upon  me,  I  shall  set  out  to  fight 
my  way  to  the  place  heaven  has  destined  for  me." 

"Spoken  like  your  grand  old  self!"  cried  his  chum  ris 
ing.  "Your  hand,  old  fellow ;  trust  me,  your  secret  is  safe 
with  me,  and  eternally  count  on  Brandon." 


ONE  PHASE  OF  SOCIAL  LIFE.  31 


CHAPTER  II. 

ONE   PHASE   OF   SOCIAL  LIFE. 

IT  was  about  five  o'clock  in  the  afternoon  of  a  bright 

autumn  day.  A  few  clerks  lingered  in  the National 

Bank,  busy  with  their  accounts,  while,  in  the  elegantly  ap 
pointed  directors'  room,  a  gentleman  was  seated  alone 
perusing  a  stack  of  papers  which  lay  on  the  table  before 
him,  and  affixing  his  signature  as  the  document  required 
it. 

He  was  seemingly  about  forty-five  years  of  age,  of 
corpulent  build.  A  stern,  unprepossessing  countenance 
was  shaded  by  a  full  beard  well  tinged  with  gray,  which, 
with  his  iron  gray  hair,  made  him  appear  at  least  ten 
years  older.  Still,  taking  him  all  in  all,  Perry  Barrington 
was  a  well-preserved  man  for  his  years.  At  his  marriage 
with  the  charming  widow  Beaumont,  some  sixteen  years 
ago,  he  had  settled  down  to  enjoy  the  luxury  which  his 
riches  afforded.  His  old  acquaintances  prophesied  that 
Perry  would  not  long  endure  the  monotony  of  wedded 
life;  but  his  steady,  even  and  well-regulated  life,  his 
rare  appearance  at  the  clubs  and  favorite  resorts,  and  last 
but  not  least,  his  joining  the  fashionable  church  which 
his  wife  attended,  of  which  in  time  he  became  a  leading 
light,  gained  for  him  an  unlimited  respect,  and  firmly 
established  his  position  in  society  as  a  model  husband. 

It  is  true  that  there  were  periods  of  absence  from 
home,  about  the  time  that  a  little  daughter  was  born  to 
Muriel  Barrington,  who,  in  the  joy  of  the  event;  forgot  to 


32  A  GENTLEMAN  BORN. 

grieve  for  her  lost  son,  Guyon;  and  to  wonder  in  the  lack 
of  attention  in  her  husband,  to  whom  she  was  passionately 
devoted. 

Then,  too,  he  became  connected  with  the National 

Bank,  and  was  duly  installed  President  of  the  Board  of 
Directors.  There  had  been  a  meeting  this  afternoon, 
and  Perry  lingered  after  the  others  had  departed,  occu 
pied  as  we  find  him. 

"A  lady  wishes  to  see  you,  sir,"  said  a  messenger,  ap 
pearing  at  the  door. 

"A  lady?  Have  you  seen  her  here  before,  James? 
Did  she  not  give  her  card?" 

"No,  sir,  I  haven't  seen  her  afore.  She  says  as  she 
must  see  you." 

"I'm  busy — tell  her  to  call  some  other  day.  No,  show 
her  in.  Who  the  devil  can  it  be?"  he  muttered,  as  the 
messenger  left  the  room. 

He  was  not  long  in  suspense.  A  moment  later,  the 
messenger  returned  announcing  the  lady  visitor  who  en 
tered,  and  stood  waiting  an  invitation  to  be  seated.  She 
had  evidently  at  one  time  been  a  striking  beauty,  a  blonde 
of  the  purest  type;  but  trouble  had  wrought  havoc  with 
that  frail  female  commodity.  She  seemed  about  forty 
years  of  age.  Attired  in  a  sober  costume  of  black,  with 
a  jacket  and  hat  of  the  same  color,  she  certainly  would 
claim  the  devoirs  of  respectable  society. 

"To  whom  am  I  indebted  for  this  visit?"  asked  Perry, 
not  looking  up  from  his  work. 

"Don't  you  know  me,  Perry  Barrington?"  exclaimed 
the  woman.  Something  in  the  voice  caused  the  man  to 
start,  turn  deadly  pale,  and  utter  an  exclamation  of  pro 
fanity. 

"You!  Where  in  the  devil's  name  did  you  drop  from? 
I  thought  you  were  dead." 


ONE  PHASE  OF  SOCIAL  LIFE.  33 

"If  the  wish  were  father  to  the  thought,  perhaps  I 
should  be/'  replied  the  woman,  drawing  up  a  chair  in  front 
of  him  and  seating  herself. 

"Well,  what  is  it?  Why  have  you  come  again  into  my 
life?  The  same  old  story,  I  dare  say — money,  eh?" 

"No,  Perry.  I  have  the  allowance  regularly,  I  can't 
complain  about  that ;  and  I've  not  seen  you  these  five 
years." 

"Then  you  have  come  to  say  that  you  have  some  one 
else  to  take  care  of  you,  and  don't  require  my  assistance? 
So  much  the  better." 

"Oh,  Perry !  It's  not  that  either.  I'm  just  the  same  as 
you  left  me  after  our  baby  girl  was  born  fifteen  years  ago ; 
and  I've  tried,  God  knows  how  hard,  to  keep  good  for  her 
sake." 

"Humph !  the  same  story  you  told  me  when  I  saw  you 
last.  I  think  you  said  you  had  done  as  I  bid  you,  put 
the  brat  in  some  out  of  the  way  place  with  no  mark  of 
recognition  upon  it." 

"I  really  did,  Perry.  God  knows  what  became  of  the 
child !  My  only  prayer  is  that  it  died  that  cold  winter 
night,  and  is  now  in  Heaven,"  and  the  woman  broke  down, 
giving  vent  to  violent  sobbing. 

"Come,  come!  this  is  no  place  for  a  scene;  we  are  not 
alone  in  the  bank.  Tell  me  why  you  are  here,  quickly, 
and — go." 

"Do  you  think  you  can  bully  me  in  this  way?  I  tell 
you,  you  are  mistaken!"  exclaimed  the  unhappy  woman, 
thoroughly  roused,  and  changed  in  an  instant  to  a  passion 
ate  fury.  "Perry  Barrington,  beware !  Looked  up  to 
and  respected  as  you  are,  high  in  society  and  in  the  church, 
a  word  from  me  will  quickly  bring  you  down  to  my  level." 

"You  dare  not!"  he  hissed,  his  face  livid  with  rage. 

"I  dare  not?    Ah,  no,  they  would  not  believe  it  if  I 


34  A  GENTLEMAN  BORN. 

told  them  that  you,  Perry  Barrington,  had  known  a  poor 
actress  before  your  marriage,  and  had  afterward  left  your 
charming  wife  to  spend  an  evening  in  her  company.  Ha, 
ha !  They'd  not  believe  it !"  she  cried  hysterically. 

"How  have  you  learned  so  much  about  my  affairs?" 
he  gasped,  struggling  to  master  his  passion,  which  was 
momentarily  threatening  to  overpower  him. 

"Never  mind  how ;  it  is  all  true,  I  can  see  by  your  coun 
tenance.  To  think  that  I  was  so  easily  duped,  that  I 
believed  you  truly  loved  me  and  would  make  me  your  wife ! 
To  think  that  I  loved  you  still  when  you  persuaded  me 
to  give  up  my  one  treasure,  my  baby  girl !" 

"Come,  this  is  too  much.  You  have  overshot  your 
mark,  woman.  I  have  been  a  fool  in  tolerating  you  so 
long.  You  dare  not  breathe  a  word  of  what  you  have  ut 
tered  ;  if  you  do,"  he  continued  calmly,  his  voice  becoming 
cold  and  sarcastic,  "if  you  do  no  one  will  credit  your  tale ; 
it  will  be  a  simple  case  of  blackmail,  you  know.  Now  go, 
and  as  my  name  is  Perry  Barrington,  your  allowance  shall 
cease  to-morrow." 

"Perry !"  exclaimed  the  woman,  her  attitude  changed  to 
one  of  abject  supplication,  "Perry,  you  cannot  be  so  hard 
hearted  !  You  will  not  force  me  to  the  worst !" 

"What  is  that  to  me,  woman?" 

"In  memory  of  the  old  times,  Perry,  it  was  for  that, 
that  I  came  to  see  you  to-day.  I  have  been  trying  to  kill 
the  old  love;  but  I  can't.  After  all  you  have  done,  I 
love  you !  Don't  turn  from  me !"  she  cried.  "You  cannot 
fathom  a  woman's  love.  All  that  she  holds  most  cherished 
and  sacred,  she  gives  to  the  object  of  her  deep  affection. 
What  is  there  left?  If  he  returns  it  not,  treats  her  but 
as  the  toy  of  the  moment,  she  must,  she  can  but  love  him 
still." 

"Enough,  enough,  woman!     I  am  tired  of  your  talk." 


ONE  PHASE  OF  SOCIAL  LIFE.  35 

"Is  it  thus  you  treat  the  devotion  of  your  truly  wedded 
wife?  Tell  me,  in  your  mansion  of  princely  wealth,  docs 
she  live  heartsore  craving  your  love  in  vain  ?'" 

"Hush !  not  another  word !  Do  not  let  the  name  of  my 
wife  or  of  my  home  pass  your  lips." 

"But  you  will  say  that  you  think  kindly  of  me,  Perry, 
never  so  little?  Come  to  me  again  in  my  flat  which  I 
have  furnished  so  nicely  out  of  the  money  you  let  me  have. 
Come  and  see  for  yourself  that  Mildred  is  the  same  as 
you  left  her." 

"No,  it  cannot  be.  I  tell  you,  put  an  end  to  all  this! 
If  it  will  cause  you  to  leave  more  quickly,  I  retract  what  I 
said  about  stopping  your  allowance;  but  only  on  your 
solemn  promise  that  I  shall  see  you  no  more.' 

"That  is  your  last  word,  Perry  Barrington?"  cried  the 
woman,  standing  now  proudly  before  him,  her  eyes  wild 
with  excitement. 

"My  last,"  he  replied,  turning  to  his  desk. 

"Then  hear  me!  You  may  keep  your  money,  I  won't 
touch  a  penny  of  it.  You  have  brought  a  curse  upon  my 
life,  you  have  rejected  my  love;  now  in  turn  may  your 
curse  revert  to  your  own  head!  Respected  and  honored 
as  you  are,  may  you  die  in  shame  and  infamy !  May 
your  nearest  kin  reproach  you  with  grievous  wrong,  and 
may  your  life  be  cut  short  in  a  career  of  prosperity!" 

"Woman,  you  are  mad!  Leave  me  instantly,  or  I  will 
call  the  police." 

"I  am  going,  I  have  had  my  say,  think  of  it  leisurely, 
Mr.  Barrington,  and  when  you  are  in  the  throes  of  agony, 
remember  Mildred  and  our  innocent  baby  girl." 

With  this,  the  woman  left .  the  room.  For  a  moment 
Barriugton  sat,  dazed  from  the  effect  of  her  words.  All 
the  evils  of  his  life  seemed  to  pass  before  him  in  review. 
The  night  of  the  Fancy  Dress  Ball,  the  abduction  of 


36  A  GENTLEMAN  BORN. 

Guyon  Beaumont,  his  own  double  hypocritical  life,  the 
baby  girl,  Mildred's  and  his,  the  end  that  she  had  just  por 
trayed.  "Ha !"  he  exclaimed,  rising  and  pacing  the  room, 
"it's  all  nonsense.  A  bad  digestion,  and  the  excitement  of 
this  unexpected  meeting.  Poor  thing,  she  is  right,  per 
haps.  I  did  treat  her  beastly;  yet  I  did  more  for  her 
than  most  men  would  have  done  under  the  circumstances. 
She  could  not  expect  me  to  give  up  wealth,  position  and 
everything  that  I  have  for  her.  Damn  it  all,  I'm  glad 
that  I  shall  not  see  her  again,"  and  so  communing  with 
himself,  endeavoring  to  smooth  over  the  rough  edges  of 
conscience,  he  sat  again  at  his  desk,  and  touched  a  button, 
summoning  the  messenger. 


ANOTHER  PHASE.  37 


CHAPTEK  III. 

ANOTHER   PHASE. 

"ARE  the  clerks  still  in  the  bank?"  he  asked  when  the 
functionary  appeared. 

"Just  one  or  two,  sir,  as  say  they'll  stay  late  to-night." 

"Very  well;  you  may  call  my  coach." 

Perry  arrived  at  his  residence  a  little  later  than  was  his 
custom.  As  he  entered,  his  wife  came  out  in  the  hall  to 
meet  him.  She  was  still  the  beautiful  Muriel  we  last  saw 
at  the  Fancy  Dress  Ball.  Time  had  been  gentle  with  her ; 
even  the  grievous  trouble  of  losing  her  son  had  been  eclipsed 
by  the  birth  of  the  daughter  whose  coming  shed  a  new  lus 
tre  upon  her  life.  Then,  too,  she  loved  her  husband  with 
all  the  warmth  of  her  deep,  passionate  nature,  nor  had 
she  as  yet  been  undeceived  in  the  trust  she  imposed  in  him. 
Her  evening  costume  of  black  satin  with  diamonds  showed 
her  full,  matronly  figure  to  advantage;  while  her  large, 
violet  eyes  shone  with  the  light  of  unalloyed  happines  as 
she  held  out  both  hands  in  greeting. 

"You  are  a  little  late;  are  you  feeling  as  well  as  usual, 
dear?"  she  asked,  noting  Perry's  pale  and  haggard 
countenance. 

"Oh,  yes;  business  has  been  a  trifle  heavier  and  more 
monotonous  to-day.  Has  anything  out  of  the  ordinary 
occurred  ?"  he  asked  impatiently,  anxious  to  avoid  his  wife's 
pitying  glances  and  to  retire  to  his  room. 

"Nothing  special,  only  that  your  old  friend,  Mr.  Bran 
don  and  his  wife  are  here  to  dinner;  and  they  have 


38  A   GENTLEMAN  BORN. 

brought  a  real  Bishop  with  them — Bishop  ,  from 

Ohio." 

"The  Devil!"  muttered  Perry. 

"What  did  you  say,  dear?" 

"I  thought  we  should  have  a  quiet  evening  together, 
Muriel;  however,  I  suppose  we  must  submit  to  being 
bored." 

"No,  dear,  we  shall  not  be  *bored'  as  you  call  it.  I 
assure  you,  Bishop is  an  excellent  man,  and  such  a  con 
versationalist.  Now  hurry  and  dress,  that's  a  good  fel 
low!  Hastings  is  becoming  impatient  in  the  dining- 
room." 

Perry  would  have  given  the  world  for  what  he  called 
a  quiet  evening,  alone  in  his  library  that  night.  Still,  as 
lie  went  through  the  hasty  preparation  of  donning  his 
evening  clothes,  he  reflected  that  it  might  be  better  to  have 
some  society, — no  matter  of  what  kind — to  distract  his 
thoughts  from  the  events  of  the  afternoon. 

"Hello,  Brandon !"  he  cried,  entering  the  drawing- 
room  with  his  usual  genial  mien.  "I  am  delighted  to  see 
you  to-night !  Most  charmed  to  greet  you,  Mrs.  Brandon." 

"This  is  Bishop ,  from  Ohio,"  said  his  friend,  as  a 

grave  old  gentleman  with  a  kindly  face  and  polished 
manners  advanced  to  meet  the  host. 

"You  are  welcome  to  my  house,  sir.  I  only  wish  that  I 
had  known  of  your  coming,  and  I  would  have  had  some 
prominent  ministers  of  the  city  to  welcome  you." 

"To  sneak  truthfully,  Mr.  Barrington,  I  prefer  a  quiet 
little  pothering  like  this  to  a  large  social  meeting,  even  of 
the  brethren." 

"Your  pretty  compliment  is  duly  appreciated,  Bishop," 
remarked  the  hostess. 

At  this  moment  came  the  summons  to  dinner,  at  which 
Hastings,  considerably  aged,  but  still  loath  to  surrender 


ANOTHER  PHASE.  39 

what  he  called  the  post  of  honor,  hustled  his  underlings 
around,  grumbling  to  himself  that  it  was  a  shame  to  have 
dinners  spoiled  by  people  dallying  in  the  drawing-room. 

They  were  a  lively  little  party  when  the  restraint  con 
sequent  upon  the  presence  of  the  reverend  guest  had 
passed.  The  Brandons  had  married  about  the  time  that 
Clarence  Beaumont  and  Muriel  were  wedded,  and  had 
been  living  in  a  Western  home  until  within  a  few  years 
previous  to  the  present  occasion.  Mrs.  Brandon,  a  witty 
little  woman,  a  few  years  younger  than  Muriel,  was  now 
seated  at  Perry's  right  and  was  teasing  him  upon  his  un 
usual  silence. 

"You  are  overawed  by  the  Church,  are  you  not,  Perry  ?" 

"I  beg  your  pardon".'" 

"Do  you  mean  to  say  that  you  did  not  hear  me  ?  Where 
are  your  thoughts  to-night?" 

"I  really  don't  know?" 

"If  you  don't  know  where  your  thoughts  are,  you  are 
certainly  in  a  bad  plight.  Bishop,"  she  said,  "can  you 
tell  me  in  your  wisdom,  what  is  the  condition  of  a  man 
who  knows  not  of  what  he  is  thinking?" 

"It  may  be,  Madam,  that  the  gentleman's  thoughts  are 
so  deep  that  he  cannot  fathom  them ;  and  again,  it  may  be 
that  his  thoughts  are  so  vain  that  he  would  rather  conceal 
them.  Are  you  answered?" 

"Yes,  many  thanks,  sir."  Then  to  Perry,  "In  which 
category  am  I  to  consider  you?" 

"In  either,  as  you  please." 

"Perry !"  exclaimed  Mr.  Brandon,  coming  to  his  friend's 
rescue,  "do  you  know  that  Harry  is  doing  famously  well 
at  Harvard?" 

"Harold  in  Harvard!  I  am  surely  delighted  to  hear 
it,  old  fellow,"  said  Perry.  "I  suppose  he  takes  the  lead 
in  everything,  as  his  father  did  in  the  old  days." 


40  A  GENTLEMAN  BORN. 

"I  am  not  so  sure  of  that,"  replied  his  friend;  "he 
writes  that  there  is  a  certain  fellow  there, — he  must  be  an 
Irish  boy,  judging  by  the  name — McCarty — who  is  win 
ning  the  highest  honors." 

"Some  low-bred  fellow,  no  doubt,"  said  Perry.  "How 
disastrous  it  is  that  the  lower  classes  should  be  admitted  to 
our  grand  old  Universities  on  an  equal  footing  with  our 
set!" 

"It  is  an  evil  which  cannot  be  averted  in  this  country, 
I  am  afraid,"  said  the  Bishop.  "Here,  wealth  is  the  pass 
word  which  insures  a  certain  entree  everywhere,  setting 
the  stamp  of  aristocracy  upon  the  lowliest." 

"Provided  they  have  the  intelligence  and  ambition  to 
elevate  themselves,  I  cannot  see  why  they  should  not  share 
our  positions,"  remarked  Mr.  Brandon. 

"Why,  Brandon!  are  you  going  over  to  the  enemy? 
Where  shall  the  line  be  drawn?  If  you  follow  up  your 
theory,  we  shall  have  these  women  in  their  tawdry 
adornments,  without  the  taste  and  culture  of  the  better 
class,  entering  our  drawing-rooms  and  sitting  with  us  at  the 
social  board." 

"Fancy  the  wife  of  some  big  Irish  contractor  sitting  here 
with  us  to-night,  and  making  a  fool  of  herself  by  con 
tinual  breaches  of  etiquette,"  ventured  Mrs.  Brandon  in 
an  aside  to  the  hostess. 

"On  this  one  point  you  are  mistaken,  friends,"  said  the 
Bishop  quietly;  "these  women  will  never  enter  your  inner 
circles  until  education  has  cultivated  their  taste  and 
polished  their  manners.  Women  are  the  greatest  critics 
of  their  own  sex;  they  are  also  sensitive  as  to  their  own 
appearance  and  the  impression  they  may  produce.  Is  it 
not  so,  Mrs.  Barrington?" 

"I  think  you  are  correct,  Bishop.  Still,  for  my  own 
part,"  continued  Muriel,  ever  a  champion  of  her  set,  "it 


ANOTHER  PHA8E.  41 

seems  that  the  only  means  for  keeping  our  class  exclusive, 
is  to  prevent  our  children  from  intermarriage  with  the 
lower  caste." 

"Just  so :  it  would  undoubtedly  be  an  excellent  plan  for 
carrying  out  the  project  as  you  put  it/'  said  the  Bishop. 
"Such  marriages  cannot  be  the  happiest  from  general  prin 
ciples,  although  there  may  be  an  exceptional  case  now  and 
again,  where  the  husband  will  elevate  his  wife  until  she 
shines  in  his  social  sphere." 

"Or  draws  him  down  with  her,"  chimed  in  Mrs.  Brandon. 

"So  much  the  worse  for  our  age  and  the  generation  of 
our  children,"  remarked  the  Bishop.  "If  our  men  would 
learn  to  show  the  proper  respect  for  womanhood, — that  re 
spect  which  our  fathers  showed  to  our  mothers;  ah,  there 
was  an  example  for  you ! — if  they  would  consider  the  mar 
riage  contract  as  a  Heaven-born  institution  not  to  be 
lightly  entered  upon  nor  lightly  subverted,  then  would  the 
world  be  better." 

"What  you  say  is  only  too  true,"  said  Muriel. 

"Yes,  Madam,  and  what  I  have  heard  of  your  own 
happiness  in  the  wedded  state,  Mrs.  Barrington,  and  of 
yours,  Mrs.  Brandon,  makes  me  feel  assured  that  the  inner 
life  of  society  in  this  great  city  is  not  as  bad  as  it  is  else 
where  depicted." 

"Thank  you  deeply  for  your  good  words,  Bishop,"  ex 
claimed  Mrs.  Brandon. 

"And  I  will  add  from  my  personal  knowledge  that  your 
good  opinion  of  New  York  society  will  bear  the  severest 
test,"  said  the  hostess. 

It  is  unnecessary  to  say  that  Perry  Barrington's  feel 
ings  were  not  the  most  pleasant  during  this  conversation. 
Harassed  by  the  previous  events  of  the  day,  with  the  fear 
of  the  woman's  curse  upon  him,  he  now  began  to  dread  lest 
her  words  might  be  realized  in  the  sting  of  remorse  and 


42  A  GENTLEMAN  BORN. 

shame  which  came  to  him.  Nevertheless,  accustomed  for 
so  many  years  to  play  a  double  part,  he  quickly  overcame 
his  feelings  and  entered  into  the  conversation  which 
gradually  drifted  in  other  courses;  until,  Mrs.  Barring- 
ton  rising,  her  friend  retired  with  her  to  the  drawing- 
room,  leaving  the  gentlemen  to  their  wine. 

Later  in  the  evening,  when  the  guests  had  departed, 
Perry  sought  the  seclusion  of  his  den.  It  was  the  same 
library  in  which  he  had  met  the  Italian  padrone,  Pietro, 
and  arranged  for  the  abduction  of  Guyon,  the  same 
library  where  so  often  before  he  had  visited  and  enjoyed 
the  confidence  of  his  friend,  Clarence  Beaumont;  nor  had 
many  changes,  in  fact,  taken  place  in  this  room,  for  Muriel 
loved  to  have  about  little  reminders  of  those  old  days ;  and 
Perry,  so  long  as  his  solitude  was  not  intruded  upon,  cared 
not  a  fig  for  the  ghosts  of  the  past  which  the  surroundings 
might  have  conjured  up. 

He  sat  there  for  some  time  in  a  careless  attitude  in 
haling  the  fragrance  of  a  Turkish  cigarette,  and  gazing 
dreamily  into  the  logs  which  blazed  and  crackled  in  the 
large  open  fireplace;  while  his  thoughts  ever  reverted  to 
the  woman  Mildred  and  her  parting  curse. 

"Damn  it  all !"  he  exclaimed  passionately,  "why  did 
I  not  take  the  means  of  banishing  her  from  my  life  com 
pletely?  And  that  lost  infant  too;  that  brat  of  a  child 
she  bore ;  I  would  that  I  knew  it  were  dead !  Perhaps 
this  one  may  rise  to  confront  me  some  day,  she  and  the  boy, 
Guyon !"  and  his  mind  turned  upon  the  memorv  that  one 
day  some  years  ago,  the  padrone  had  come  to  him,  with 
well-feigned  fear  and  anxiety,  telling  that  the  child  had 
strayed  away  from  his  keepers. — "Was  ever  a  man  so  tor 
tured  in  his  life  ?"  he  muttered.  "Even  Damocles  had  but 
one  sword  threatening  his  existence,  while  a  double-edged 
weapon  hangs  suspended  over  me.  Hell  and  Furv !  I 
shall  live  it  down;  I  shall  not  at  least  be  unprepared'/' 


JOHN  M'CARTT,  CONTRACTOR.  43 


CHAPTER  IV. 
JOHN  M'CARTY,  CONTRACTOB. 

THE  McCarty  home  was  replete  with  everything  that 
contributes  to  mirth  and  good  cheer.  Unusual  prepara 
tions  had  been  going  on  for  some  time,  and  with  reason; 
for  was  not  the  only  son  and  heir  expected  home  after  hav 
ing  completed  a  brilliant  course  at  Harvard, — coming  out 
of  the  great  university  second  to  none,  and  leaving  behind 
the  McCarty  name  surrounded  by  a  halo  of  untarnished 
glory?  He  was  bringing  with  him,  too,  his  great  friend 
and  chum,  Harold  Brandon,  to  spend  an  evening;  hence 
the  Missus,  forewarned,  had  been  hustling  about  for  weeks, 
deigning  even  to  consult  the  fashionable  decorator,  whose 
advice  she  had  previously  disdained,  but  whose  corps  of 
assistants,  with  their  workmen,  soon  made  sad  havoc  in 
her  tasty  (?)  apartments,  relegating  her  most  cherished 
works  of  art  to  inglorious  oblivion,  and  with  a  little  out 
lay  of  money,  transforming  the  residence  into  a  cozy  abode 
suiting  their  position  in  life. 

"It's  spiling  the  house  the  min  are  entirely !"  exclaimed 
John,  the  evening  before  Guyon's  arrival. 

"Do  you  think  so?  Well,  I  dare  say  the  decorator 
knows  what  he's  about;  at  least  he  says  he  does,  and  the 
ladies  who  called  to-day  said  that  it's  just  too  lovely  for 
anything." 

"Humph !  if  they  say  it,  it  must  be  so ;  but  I  know  the 
day  whin  it  wus  yersel',  Mary,  as  sid  ye  would  have  it  as  ye 
plased,  small  thanks  ter  phwat  anny  one  thought." 

"And  if  I  did,  can't  I  change  my  mind?" 


44  A  GENTLEMAN  HORN. 

"Faith,  ye  can  that,  an'  it's  little  say  I  have  in  it  at  all." 

"Now,  John,  you  know  that  Guy's  entered  the  fashion 
able  .set  at  College,  and  will  be  bringing  his  friends  here; 
and  who  knows  but  we  shan't  ourselves  be  invited  out! 
So,  we  must  have  the  place  looking  like  other  people's 
houses;  that  is  what  the  decorator  says." 

"All  right,  I've  nothin'  to  say,  Mary,  only  I  wish  I 
cud  have  a  few  frinds  ter  see  the  b'y  wid  his  fine  airs  now." 

"Your  friends?  A  great  showing  they  would  make. 
No,  indeed,  I'd  not  invite  my  own  'society  ladies,'  for  Guy 
wished  his  home-coming  to  be  quiet — 'Just  ourselves, 
Mother,'  he  wrote." 

"Yis,  I  know,  an'  I  hope  that  frind  o'  his  won't  be  a 
stuck  up  prig  of  a  feller." 

"If  he  is,  you  mustn't  say  anything;  and  mind  to  be 
polite  and  civil,  John." 

The  old  gentleman  had  received  many  a  lecture  on  this 
subject  before,  so  he  concluded  to  say  nothing,  and  just 
use  his  own  judgment  as  to  how  he  should  act  before  the 
scion  of  one  of  the  first  families  in  society. 

In  due  time  on  the  following  day,  Guyon  and  Harold 
arrived,  and  the  latter  was  heartily  glad  that  he  had  heard 
from  his  chum's  lips  that  these  people  were  only  his  foster 
parents,  when  Guyon,  released  from  "Dad's"  enthusias 
tic  embrace,  with  many  a  "good,  my  by,  yees  a  credit  ter 
us,  so  ye  are !"  introduced  him  as  his  chum,  Harry  Bran 
don,  and  the  old  gentleman  nearly  wrenched  off  his  hand 
in  his  hearty  welcome. 

"Faith,  it's  glad  I  am  ter  know  ye,  Mr.  Brandon,  an' 
here's  me  Missus  here  as  is  waitin'  ter  shake  hands  wid 
ye." 

"Delighted  to  meet  you,  Mrs.  McCarty,"  said  Harold, 
quietly;  "your  son,  Guy,  has  made  us  fellows  ashamed  of 
ourselves  up  at  the  old  place." 


JOHN  MCCARTY,  CONTRACTOR.  45 

"You  are  good  to  say  so,  sir,"  replied  the  hostess. 
"Now,  would  you  like  to  go  to  your  rooms  before  luncheon  ? 
Guy,  you  know  where  yours  is,  and  Mr.  Brandon's  the  next 
to  it." 

"All  right,  Mother;  but  haven't  you  a  word  for 
me?" 

"Some  other  time,  Guy,  I'm  so  busy — no,  I  must  kiss 
you  for  what  you  have  done !"  and  the  undemonstrative 
woman,  raised  on  tiptoe  to  give  Guyon  a  sounding  smack, 
taking  him  so  much  by  surprise  that  he  blushed  like  a 
young  school  girl,  while  his  friend  hastily  retreated  to 
conceal  the  smile  which  he  could  not  suppress. 

After  luncheon,  when  they  were  sitting  in  the  reception- 
room,  the  lads,  both  in  buoyant  spirits,  kept  up  a  lively 
fire  of  conversation,  relating  various  exploits  of  Col 
lege,  while  Mr.  McCarty,  never  more  jovial,  slapped  his 
knee  and  hurrahed  outright;  for  Harry  was  telling  how 
Guyon  had,  as  Captain  of  the  'Varsity  crew,  won  the  race 
by  his  excellent  manoeuvring. 

"He  would  make  a  great  leader  anywhere,"  concluded 
Mr.  Brandon,  with  enthusiasm. 

"That's  phwat  I'm  thinkin'  meseP,"  exclaimed  the  old 
contractor.  "Now,  if  he  wus  ter  go  inter  politics,  fer  in 
stance  ?" 

"Just  the  thing,"  said  Harry.  "Why  don't  you  try 
your  hand  at  it,  Guy?  I'm  sure  your  father  can  intro 
duce  you  to  many  men  in  political  life." 

"Faith,  I  can,  an'  I'm  a  mimber  of  Tammany  Hall 
meser  fer  years ;  an'  phwy  shouldn't  me  b'y  after  me  ?" 

"I'm  afraid  his  inclinations  don't  run  in  that  direction, 
sir.  How  about  it,  Guy?" 

"No,  I  must  say  that  I  am  not  particularly  partial  to 
Tammany  Bosses.  The  whole  Democratic  organization 
seems  to  be  an  evil  rather  to  be  tolerated  in  our  great 


40  A  GENTLEMAN  BORN. 

city,  because  the  masses  are  led  like  so  many  sheep,  awed 
by  phantom  hopes  held  out  by  the  leaders  at  election 
times." 

"That's  a  fine  speech,  me  by;  but  it  won't  go  nowa 
days.  Ye  see,  there  must  be  Bosses,  er  leaders,  as  ye  calls 
'em.  Faith,  hasn't  the  Eepublicans  as  big  Bosses  as  iver 
there  wus  in  Tammany  Hall?  An'  thin,  as  fur  the  bits 
o'  jobs  they  promises,  look  at  me  an'  see  phwat  I  got  by 
bein'  a  life  mimber." 

"There's  an  argument  for  you,  Guy/'  chimed  in  his 
friend. 

"You  are  an  exception  to  the  general  rule,  Dad; 
your  own  wit  and  good  judgment  have  helped  you  along. 
Well,  we  won't  fight  about  politics  just  now,  only  I  think 
that  the  poor  men  in  our  city  should  have  a  chance  to  bet 
ter  themselves,  and  that  the  money  which  is  uselessly  ex 
pended  for  political  purposes  might  go  towards  elevating 
the  masses." 

"Sure,  Guy,  me  lad,  phwat  'ud  ye  be  doin'  elevatin'  'em 
at  all;  would  they  be  happy  if  they  wus  livin'  in  a  fine 
house  like  this,  now?" 

"No,  I  can't  say  that  they  would.  In  fact,  I  feel  that 
they  would  be  very  unhappy.  You  did  not  exactly  catch 
my  idea,  Bad.  I  meant  that  they  should  be  elevated 
to  the  extent  that  their  homes  might  be  more  cleanly, 
orderly,  and  furnished  with  such  comforts  as  their  means 
would  allow." 

"That's  not  a  bad  idea,  Guy/'  said  Harold. 

"No,  the  idee  isn't  bad;  but  it's  the  puttin'  it  inter 
practice.  Ye  see  I  knows  a  little  about  the  poorer  class 
mesel',  eeein'  that " 

"John,  don't  you  think  you  might  show  Guy's  friend 
over  the  house?"  interposed  Mrs.  McCarty,  fearful  lest 
her  husband  was  about  to  make  one  of  his  "bad  breaks." 


JOHN  M'CARTY,  CONTRACTOR.  47 

"There's  plenty  o'  time  fer  that,  Mary.  As  I  wus  say- 
in',  by,  they'll  niver  have  thrift  er  savin'  ter  make  a  com 
fortable  home." 

"Not  while  their  earnings  are  so  small,  Dad." 

"Faith,  thin  they  can  save  on  small  earnin's  as  well  as 
big." 

"They  can  indeed;  but  they  should  be  encouraged. 
Take  the  laborers  you  employ  on  your  large  contract  jobs 
now,  do  you  think  they  are  fairly  paid?" 

"Now  yere  hittin'  home,  Guy,  an'  I'll  tell  ye  I  pay  'em 
as  much  as  I  can  afford  so  as  ter  make  a  dacent  profit  fer 
meseP." 

"And  a  handsome  one  at  that,  Dad,  you  must  acknowl 
edge.  Bear  with  me  when  I  ask  you  another  question ;  are 
the  men  satisfied  with  their  wages  ?" 

"Don't  be  surprised  at  anything  Guy  says  on  this  sub 
ject  when  he  is  once  started,"  said  Harold;  "he  has  been 
reading  every  book  he  can  get  hold  of  on  this  question. 
Capital  vs.  Labor  has  been  a  great  hobby  of  his,  I  can  tell 
you." 

"Faith,  he'll  know  better  whin  he's  a  bit  o'  experience, 
so  he  will!"  exclaimed  the  old  gentleman,  a  little  piqued 
that  his  adopted  son  and  heir  should  on  the  first  evening 
of  his  return  from  College,  touch  upon  a  topic  which  was 
not  especially  agreeable  to  him;  while  his  better  half  did 
not  conceal  her  disappointment  that  the  boy  in  whom  she 
had  placed  such  high  expectations,  should  turn  out  after 
all  to  be  an  advocate  of  the  lower  class  instead  of  straining 
all  his  energies  toward  her  one  great  ambition. 

"But,  Dad,  you  have  not  answered  my  question,"  per 
sisted  Guyon. 

"Well,  I  must  say  they  are  not ;  in  fact  the  foreman  o' 
the  gang  ter  work  on  the  new  electric  road,  wus  a  tellin' 
me  this  mornin'  that  he  has  great  fears  of  a  strike ;  but  'let 


48  A  GENTLEMAN  BORN. 

'em  strike/  sez  I,  'sure  we  can  get  as  manny  more  ter 
fill  their  places/  " 

"You  surely  would  not  turn  the  men  down  without  a 
hearing,"  said  Guyon. 

"A  hearin'  is  it?    Divil  a  bit  I'll  give  'em,  Guy." 

And  Guyon,  seeing  that  his  foster-father  was  obstinate 
on  this  point,  deftly  changed  the  subject  into  a  more 
pleasant  current. 

Finally,  Mrs.  McCarty  gained  her  point,  and  Harold 
was  shown  over  the  house.  His  quiet  meed  of  praise  was 
so  gratifying  to  the  good  woman  that  she  took  him  into 
her  heart  and  confidence,  explaining  how  much  she  hoped 
from  her  son's  meeting  with  elegant  people,  now  that  he 
had  so  grand  an  education,  throwing  out  a  gentle  hint  that 
she  would  not  be  averse  to  meeting  them  herself,  all  of 
which  Harold  listened  to,  smiling  to  himself  as  he  thought 
how  amused  his  mother  would  be  when  he  related  the  con 
versation  to  her. 

The  dinner,  an  elaborate  affair  of  its  kind,  was  served 
later  in  the  evening.  The  old  gentleman  was  not  exactly 
at  his  ease,  for  Guyon's  utterances  still  rankled  in  his  soul ; 
then,  too,  there  was  the  annoyance  of  the  impending  strike, 
the  consequences  of  which  might  be  greater  than  he  could 
foresee ;  for  he  had  not  spoken  about  the  threats  of  the  men 
which  the  foreman  had  overheard  and  retailed  to  him  that 
morning. 


SWIPSIE  BIGLIN.  49 


CHAPTER  V. 

SWIPSIE   BIGLIN. 

HAROLD  was  in  the  midst  of  a  brilliant  description  of 
the  foot-ball  game  between  Harvard  and  Princeton,  when 
the  butler  appeared  in  the  dining-room,  pale  and  trembling 
with  fear. 

"Phwat's  the  matter  wid  ye  at  all?  exclaimed  Mr.  Mc- 
Carty.  "Can't  ye  spake  ?  Is  the  house  afire,  or  burgulars 
broke  in?" 

"Worse'n  that,  sir,  Ye'll  av'ter  call  the  police — 
quick !" 

"Police !"  screamed  the  Missus.  "Oh,  John,  do  see  what 
is  the  matter." 

"It's  jest  this,  Mam,"  the  butler  explained,  regaining 
his  breath  and  a  little  courage  at  the  sight  of  Mr.  Mc- 
Carty  going  over  to  the  police  call ;  "it's  jest  this :  there's 
a  crowd  o'  the  worst  men  I  ever  seed  outside  the  'ouse  this 
minit;  an'  they  say  as  they'll  kill  the  master,  an'  fire  the 
'ouse,  ef  'e  doan  do  as  they  wants  'im  to." 

"Who  are  these  men,  Dad,  do  you  know?"  asked 
Guyon,  rising  from  the  table. 

"Who  are  they?  The  damned  shtrikers,  that's  who; 
but  we'll  do  'em  up  fine,  so  we  will.  I'll  have  the  polaice. 
here  in  a  minit." 

"Don't  call  the  police,  Dad,"  exclaimed  Guyon,  placing 
his  back  against  the  call-box. 

"Is  it  you  that's  goin'  ter  takes  sides  wid  the  likes  o' 


50  A  GENTLEMAN  BORN. 

thim  against  me  ?  You  who — who  ?"  and  the  old  man  was 
so  overcome  by  his  emotions  that  he  could  not  utter  an 
other  word. 

"There  is  not  time  to  discuss  the  question  now,  Bad. 
Yes,  I  know  all  you  have  done  for  me;  and  I  cannot  for 
get  that  I  was  once  a  boy  of  the  streets  myself." 

"What  are  you  saying  ?"  exclaimed  Mrs.  McCarty,  prop 
erly  shocked ;  for  all  her  air-castles  seemed  to  have  fallen 
to  the  earth  in  complete  ruin. 

There  was  a  pause  of  a  moment — while  from  without 
came  a  mighty  roar,  and  the  front  door  was  banged  and 
shaken  by  the  bolder  of  the  crowd. 

"Phwat  are  yees  goin'  ter  do,  annyhow?  Am  I  ter 
have  me  house  tored  down  over  me  hid  an'  niver  call  in 
the  polaice  protection?" 

"Call  it,  and  what  will  be  the  result?"  said  Guy  on 
quietly.  "A  score  of  these  poor  ignorant  fellows  badly 
hurt  with  the  clubbing  they  will  get,  some  arrests  made, 
you  will  be  called  into  court,  your  name  will  appear  in  the 
papers  as  the  oppressor  of  the  laboring  class." 

Bang,  bang!  came  the  thundering  at  the  door.  The 
servants  from  all  parts  of  the  house  nocked  into  the  din 
ing-room  like  so  many  frightened  sheep. 

"Phwat  in  the  worruld  will  I  do?  Tell  me,  Guy,  an' 
I'll  listen  ter  ye.  I'm  a  most  out  o'  me  wits." 

"Do  nothing,  Dad;  just  quiet  Mother  and  these  people 
here.  I  will  go  out  and  speak  to  the  men." 

"You?  Oh,  don't  go,  Guy!  You'll  be  killed!"  cried 
Mrs.  McCarty. 

"No  fear  of  that.     I  shall  bring  them  to  terms." 

At  that,  Guyon  hastened  out  to  the  hall,  unbarred  the 
door,  and  as  the  first  intruder  would  have  entered,  he  gave 
him  a  blow  which  sent  him  reeling  from  the  porch.  The 
rest  fell  back  for  a  moment  amazed. 


8WIPSIE  BIQLIN.  51 

"Down  wid  'im!  Down  wid  de  bloody  'ristocrat,  down 
wid  de  cap'talis' !"  shouted  the  mob. 

"Men,  hear  me!"  cried  Guyon,  stepping  near  to  the 
crowd;  while  they,  admiring  his  pluck,  ceased  shouting, 
although  murmurings  still  went  up  from  the  throng. 

"Hear  me!"  he  cried  again.  "I'm  not  an  aristocrat; 
I'm  one  of  yourselves;  I  was  once  a  street  lad  and  I  feel 
for  your  condition." 

"Show  it,  den;  we  wants  more  money,  see?"  cried  one. 

"'Ee's  only  jollyin'  us,  ter  keep  us  'til  de  coppers  come, 
see?"  shouted  another. 

"Whether  you  believe  me  or  not,  I  am  your  friend,  and 
as  such  advise  you  to  disperse  before  the  officers  of  the 
law  fall  upon  you.  Let  three  from  among  you  come  up 
to  me  here,  and  I  will  make  such  terms  as  will  be  agreeable 
to  you.  This  I  promise  to  do;  but  I  will  not  make  any 
settlement  unless  you  disperse." 

"'Ear,  'ear !"  cried  a  voice  in  the  crowd.  "De  bloke  chins 
good;  let's  try  'im,  fellers." 

Then  they  got  together,  and  after  much  shouting  and 
dissension,  a  trio  of  the  toughest  element  of  the  gang,  who 
appeared  to  be  leaders,  approached  the  porch,  while  the 
others  slunk  off,  in  the  nick  of  time ;  for  a  squad  of  police 
men  at  this  moment  appeared  on  the  scene;  and  the 
sergeant  in  command,  at  Guyon's  suggestion,  leaving  a 
couple  of  officers  to  guard  the  house,  withdrew  his  men. 

Harold  now  came  out  and  stood  beside  his  friend,  not 
uttering  a  word  or  offering  a  suggestion,  but  admiring 
his  tact  and  courage.  "He  is  surely  a  leader  of  men,  no 
matter  what  his  origin  may  be,"  was  his  mental  comment. 

When  the  appointed  committee  reached  the  spot  where 
Guyon  and  his  friend  were  standing,  Guyon  held  out  his 
hand,  which  each  one  reluctantly  took.  One  of  them,  a 
great,  brawny  fellow  with  a  shock  of  red  hair,  and  a. 


52  A  GENTLEMAN  BORN. 

face  which  once  seen  is  not  easily  forgotten,  gazed  curiously 
at  Guyon — hung  back,  came  forward  again,  put  out  his 
hand  a  second  time,  and  grasping  Guyon's  in  a  mighty 
squeeze,  exclaimed: 

"'Ee's  not  a  stringin'  youse  at  all,  blokes,  see?  It's  me 
own  pal,  es  sure  es  I'm  standin'  'ere." 

"You  are  not  Swipsie  Biglin?"  asked  Guyon,,  gazing 
at  the  face  upturned  to  his  as  the  electric  light  in  the  street 
revealed  his  countenance. 

"Swipsie  wus  me  name  oncet,  but  it's  Patsey  now,  'cause 
I  'aven't  swiped  none  since  youse  goed  away,  Guy." 

"Honest,  my  man?  Truly,  I  believe  you.  To  think 
that  for  my  sake  you  would  do  this !  This  is  the  Irish  lad 
of  my  story,  Hal ;  we  were  once  as  chummy  in  our  way  as 
you  and  I  are  now." 

"An'  it  wus  brudders  we.  wus  fer  fair.  Youse  doan  go 
agin  dat,  Guy,  if  youse  is  a  big  bloke  like  de  res'  o'  dem." 

"Brothers,  sure  enough !  No,  I  am  not  likely  to  forget 
the  old  times.  Now  tell  me  your  grievance  and  why  you 
have  come  here  to  make  a  riotous  attack  upon  my  fos 
ter-father's  house." 

"Wese  blokes  cudn't  'elp  't,  Guy.  Wus  de  dago  fellers 
dat  made  de  row,  an'  mos'  it  wus  dat  bloke,  de  foreman, 
wot  de  Boss  'as.  'E's  jes'  cut  us  down  an'  down,  till  wese 
doan  git  'nuff  fer  a  kid  ter  live  on,  see?" 

"I  understand;  and  I  think  that  I  can  change  it  all 
for  you.  How  would  you  like  to  be  foreman,  Biglin?" 

"Me  ?  Hully  gee,  Guy,  dat  'ud  be  a  ded  cinch !  Wudn't 
I  gie  de  blokies  a  dandy  time?" 

"You  would  see  that  they  did  their  work  properly,  pro 
vided  they  were  sufficiently  well  paid  for  it  ?" 

"On  yer  life,  Guy,  youse  knows  me,  youse  does." 

"Yes,   and  I  can  trust  you.     Come  here  to-morrow, 


SWIPSIE  BIGLIN.  53 

and  I  will  have  the  arrangements  completed.  Mean 
while,  see  the  men  and  prevail  upon  them  to  come  to  work." 

"Sure !  I'll  lick  'ell  out  o'  ev'ry  one  o'  dem  dat  doan 
cum,  see?" 

Then  Guyon  again  gave  his  hand  to  the  men,  who  were 
lost  in  wonder  seeing  "de  bloody  'ristocrat"  on  friendly 
terms  with  one  of  their  class,  and  they  went  away  re 
joicing. 

Entering  the  house,  the  young  men  found  the  contractor 
ana  his  wife  anxious  to  learn  the  result  of  the  conference. 
They  were  delighted  to  find  that  neither  had  received  an 
injury. 

"Ye're  a  brave  lad,  Guy,"  said  Mr.  McCarty.  "An'  how 
did  ye  make  out  wid  the  crowd,  I  dunno." 

"Very  well,  when  I  could  induce  them  to  listen  to  me ;" 
then  Guyon  told  what  had  happened,  and  when  he  came 
to  the  part  where  Biglin  had  appeared  as  spokesman  for 
the  crowd,  the  old  gentleman  exclaimed : 

"Phwat,  not  the  same  b'y  ye  lift  wid  me  frind,  Mr. 
Swithers,  now?" 

"The  very  same ;  and  I  want  you  to  make  him  foreman 
of  the  gang." 

"Foreman,  is  it?  Isn't  Johnson  good  enough  fer  the 
likes  o'  thim  blackguards?" 

But  when  Guyon  explained  the  meagre  wages  the  men 
received,  and  how  they  were  cut  and  cut  until  almost  noth 
ing  remained,  he  became  greatly  excited. 

"The  villain!  He  did  that  same,  did  >ee?  Sure,  I 
niver  meant  thim  to  be  cut  down  so  bad.  Faith,  it's  in 
his  pockets  the  wages  is  goin',  the  rascal  thafe." 

"You  will  discharge  him,  Dad,  and  have  Biglin  in  his 
place?  He  is  an  honest  fellow,  I  can  assure  you." 

"It's  mesel'  that  knows  the  same.  Sure,  I'll  do  anny- 
thing  ye  ax  me  this  night,  Guy !  An'  it's  a  fool  I  made 


54  A  GENTLEMAN  BORN. 

o'  meseF,  pickin'  up  a  quarrel  wid  yer— only  it  does  come 
that  hard  ter  'ave  the  likes  o'  ye  tellin'  me  phwat  ter  do." 
"All  right,  Dad.  I  assure  you  that  the  task  was  odious 
to  me,  but  the  occasion  was  critical,  and  there  was  no  other 
course." 

"I  tell  you  what,  Guy,"  said  Harold,  before  they  parted 
that  night,  "since  you  will  not  permit  me  to  work  openly 
in  your  cause,  you  cannot  refuse  me  the  pleasure  of  in 
troducing  you  into  the  highest  set  in  society." 

"No,  I  will  go  that  far  with  you,"  replied  Guyon  re 
flectively. 

"Well,  what  do  you  say  to  joining  us  at  Newport  this 
season?     Everyone  is  there  now.     Father  has  quite  a  jolly 
establishment,  and  Mother  will  be  only  too  delighted  to  have 
you  for  her  guest." 
"When  do  you  go?" 
"To-morrow,  I  think." 

"Very  well.  I  will  give  you  a  few  days  in  which  to 
settle  down,  and  then,  if  I  may  intrude  upon  your  hospi 
tality  for  a  short  time,  I  shall  enjoy  it  immensely." 

So  it  was  settled  that  Guyon  was  to  be  launched  into 
the  whirl  of  society  at  Newport.  His  foster-mother  over- 
Avhelmed  him  with  her  embraces  and  blandest  flattery 
when  she  understood  what  the  invitation  conveyed;  and 
his  "Dad"  placed  his  check-book  at  his  disposal.  Fortified 
by  all  these  good  things,  especially  by  the  latter,  why 
should  not  the  son  of  a  McCarty  take  his  place  beside  the 
highest  in  the  land? 


THE  SEASON  AT  NEWPORT.  55 


CHAPTER  VI. 

THE  SEASON  AT  NEWPORT. 

"Do  YOU  tell  me  that  Harold  Brandon  is  to  bring  that 
chum  of  his  to  our  ball,  to-night?'7 

"Certainly,  Mabel,  that  is  what  he  says ;  at  least,  he 
does  not  say  it  in  so  many  words — he  asks  that  he  may  be 
allowed  to  bring  him." 

"Oh,  that  is  different.  Of  course,  your  Mamma  will 
refuse  when  I  make  an  objection." 

"I  cannot  see  why  you  should  object ;  why,  you  have  not 
even  met  the  young  gentleman  yet;  and  besides,  you — you 
— wonld  not  refuse  Harold  for  my  sake." 

"I  would  do  very  much  for  you,  Esther  dear!  Still, 
this  ball  is  given  especially  for  me ;  and  I,  being  a  South 
ern  girl  with  Southern  traits  and  ideas,  naturally  desire 
our  set  to  be  maintained  in  its  entire  exelusiveness." 

"I  suppose  it  is  because  I  haven't  made  my  debut  in 
society  that  I  cannot  appreciate  your  argument.  To  me, 
one  gentleman  is  as  good  as  another,  provided,  of  course, 
that  he  is  a  gentleman." 

"And  pray,  what  warrant  have  you  that  Harold  Bran 
don's  particular  chum  is  a  gentleman?  Surely,  not  his 
name — McCarty — bah !  it's  Irish,  and  low  Irish  at  that." 

"As  to  whether  he  is  Irish  or  not,  I  cannot  answer; 
but  as  to  his  being  a  gentleman,  the  fact  that  he  has  been 
received  as  a  guest  at  the  Brandon  home,  is  sufficient  war 
rant,  in  my  estimation.  Besides,  Mabel,  Harold  says  that 
he  carried  off  the  first  honors  at  Harvard  this  year." 


56  A  GENTLEMAN  BORN. 

"Harold,  Harold,  always  Harold!  Really,  Esther, 
you  sly  puss,  I  shall  soon  begin  to  believe  that  you  are  in 
love  with  a  certain  handsome  young  gentleman  of  that 

name." 
"For  shame,  Mabel.     Mamma  says  it's  dreadful  to  speak 

of  love  to  a  young  girl  of  sixteen ; — but  I  do  like  Harold." 
This  little  bit  of  feminine  conversation  was  going  on 
in  the  boudoir  of  Miss  Esther  Barrington,  in  the  palatial 
residence  belonging  to  her  father,  Perry  Barrington,  at 
Newport.  The  mansion  itself  had  been  in  the  Beaumont 
family  for  years  before  Muriel's  second  marriage;  since 
that  time,  it  had  been  remodeled  on  so  large  a  scale,  that 
it  now  stood  second  to  none  among  the  princely  abodes  of 
wealth  on  the  Cliffs. 

The  site  was  admirably  well  chosen,  on  an  eminence 
above  the  bay,  commanding  a  view  on  the  one  side  of  the 
city,  lying  a  little  distance  to  the  south,  of  the  other  man 
sions  at  no  great  distance  away;  while,  from  the  front, 
one  looked  down  upon  the  great  driveway,  the  beach,  and 
the  endless  expanse  of  the  sea.  The  name  Beaucliff  was 
singularly  appropriate  for  the  place,  as  the  rugged  face 
of  the  rocks  was  unbroken  in  the  ascent  by  trees  or  shrubs, 
save  near  the  topmost  edge;  while  the  grounds  immedi 
ately  surrounding  the  house  were  carefully  kept,  display 
ing  the  landscape  gardener's  skill  in  the  many  lawns  and 
terraces.  Even  among  the  cliffs  his  genius  had  been  work 
ing,  making  curious  little  paths  with  now  and  again  a  rus 
tic  bridge  over  some  miniature  rift  in  the  rocks,  and  giv 
ing  to  the  scene  a  decidedly  romantic  appearance. 

Esther,  Muriel  Barrington's  only  child,  was  fast  ap 
proaching  the  age  when  she  must  take  her  place  in  society. 
Even  now  she  was  the  pet  of  the  household,  and  of  the  set 
in  which  she  moved.  In  her  budding  beauty,  she  was  of 
the  brunette  type,  inherited  from  her  father;  while  her 


THE  SEASON  AT  NEWPORT.  57 

mother  shone  in  her  deep  violet  eyes.  In  disposition, 
temperament  and  habits,  she  was  decidedly  like  Muriel. 
In  fact,  not  one  of  her  father's  traits  had  as  yet  made 
its  appearance. 

Mabel  Gordon,  Perry's  ward,  had  been  for  some  months 
a  guest  in  the  Barrington  family.  Her  people  were  of 
the  good  old  Virginia  stock,  proud  of  their  ancestry,  but 
boasting  of  little  besides  their  name.  Had  it  not  been 
for  a  fortunate  investment  which  her  father  made  shortly 
before  his  death,  Mabel,  instead  of  being  a  beautiful  heir 
ess,  would  have  been  dependent  upon  the  charity  of  some 
distant  relative.  As  it  was,  basking  in  the  smiles  of 
fickle  fate,  possessed  of  most  fascinating  manners,  and 
a  well-cultured  mind,  she  had,  as  yet,  found  no  dearth  of 
suitors  for  her  hand,  not  only  among  the  Southern  gentle 
men,  but  even,  at  this  early  period,  among  the  swell  set 
in  New  York  society. 

Even  as  she  sat  there  in  her  friend's  boudoir,  half  re 
clining  on  an  elegant  couch,  toying,  with  a  rose  which  she 
had  plucked  from  among  several  buds  at  her  bosom,  she 
was  a  picture  for  an  artist  to  study.  Her  clear,  creamy 
complexion  and  light  blue  eyes  were  set  off  by  a  wealth  of 
auburn  hair;  yet,  withal,  she  was  strangely  cold  for  a 
Southern  belle;  so  much  so  that  Esther  was  oftentimes 
puzzled  by  her  manner,  wondering  if  it  were  really  a  qual 
ity  which  comes  to  every  debutante,  and  if  she  herself 
must  some  day  assume  it,  were  it  really  assumed,  and  not 
a  genuine  part  of  her  friend's  nature.  For  there  were 
topics  upon  which  Mabel  could  grow  warm  and  enthu 
siastic.  The  latest  expression  of  ebullition  of  spirits  be 
ing  the  ball  which  had  been  announced  for  that  very  even 
ing  in  her  honor. 

"It  is  a  silly  nonsense,  this  love!"  said  Mabel,  break 
ing  the  silence,  during  which  she  had  been  mercilessly 


5g  A  GENTLEMAN  BORN. 

tearing  to  pieces  the  fragrant  flower,  gazing  the  while  into 
space  in  a  fit  of  abstraction. 

"Do  you  think  so,  May?  Why,  you  have  told  me  of 
ever  so  many  'cases/  as  you  called  them,  down  in  Eich- 
mond.  There  was  Mr.  Fairfax,  the  rising  young  lawyer, 
and  Mr.  Breckenridge,  of  untold  wealth,  and  Mr. " 

"Oh,  dear  me !  I  did  not  think  you  had  so  excellent  a 
memory,  Es.  Ha,  ha,  ha!  poor  dear  fellows!  What 
idiots  they  made  of  themselves  at  last !  Do  you  know,  I 
hadn't  the  slightest  idea  they  were  in  love  with  me,  'deed  I 
hadn't.  Fairfax  was  a  capital  chap,  brainy,  too;  but  he 
bored  me  to  death  after  a  while.  Then  Breckenridge 
was  a  tolerably  good  partner  in  the  valse — oh,  he  was 
good!  gave  me  a  grand  time;  and  his  people  are  known 
all  over  the  South." 

"Still,  you  could  not  love  him,  May?" 

"Love  him,  pet,  oh,  dear  me! — let's  talk  of  something 
else.  Do  you  know,  I  am  positively  sleepy,  and  it's  not 
noon  yet." 

"How  about  George  Barclay,  May?"  continued  Esther, 
with  girlish  persistency. 

"Barclay?"  and  a  telltale  blush  just  tinged  the  young 
beauty's  cheek. 

"Yes;  don't  you  remember  the  stunning  chap  you  met 
on  the  golf  links  ?" 

"Ye-es,  I  think  I  remember  him.  He  is  invited  for  to 
night,  is  he  not?" 

"As  though  you  did  not  know  it,  when  you  went  over 
the  list  with  Mamma  before  the  invites  were  sent." 

"Well,  what  about  him?  You  surely  don't  want  me 
to  fall  in  love  with  a  Northerner  ?  It's  decidedly  against 
my  principles,  the  very  idea !" 

"Is  it  very  wrong  for  a  Southern  girl  to  marry  a  gen 
tleman  from  the  North  ?" 


THE  SEASON  AT  NEWPORT.  59 

"In  general  it  may  not  be  so  wrong;  but  for  myself,  I 
prefer  the  united  South." 

"You  had  better  not  repeat  those  sentiments  before 
Papa,  May;  it's  so  shocking!" 

"Then  let  us  change  the  conversation." 

"Do  you  know,  I'm  just  dying  to  get  a  peep  at  the 
rooms  downstairs,  when  everything  is  completed!  They 
are  at  work  on  them  now ;  and  Mamma  says  I  may  look  at 
the  ball-room,  because  I  shall  not  be  down  to-night." 

"Poor  child !  exclaimed  Mabel,  as  though  she  were 
ages  older  than  Esther.  "I  know  exactly  how  you  feel 
about  it;  and  I  cannot  see  why  a  young  girl  like  you 
should  be  debarred  from  every  pleasure  just  because  you 
have  not  made  your  'bow*  in  society." 

"That's  my  very  grievance,  May.  If  I  were  dreadfully 
ugly,  and  awkward  in  the  dance,  or  frightfully  stupid  now, 
all  this  might  rise  against  me  as  an  excuse." 

"But  you  are  neither,  dear.  I  assure  you  there  will  be 
ladies  present  who  cannot  compare  with  you  either  in 
beauty  or  in  grace.  Maybe  it's  because  they  are  afraid 
some  gentleman  might  fall  in  love  with  so  young  and 
petite  a  demoiselle." 

"Nonsense,  May.  No  gentleman  shall  whisper  a  word 
of  that  to  me  -until  I  am  good  and  ready  to  listen  to  him." 

"Not  even  Harry  Brandon?" 

"There  you  go  again !  Now,  for  a  forfeit,  I  am  going 
to  demand  that  you  extend  an  invite  to  his  friend." 

"It's  too  late,  Esther." 

"Why,  it's  not  noon  yet ;  and  besides,  one  of  the  footmen 
can  run  over  to  the  Brandon  home  in  a  moment." 

"It's  too  late  in  a  point  of  etiquette,  I  mean ;  and  really 
I  don't  care  to  have  him." 

"You  may  be  sorry,  Mabel;  he  may  be  the  very  man 
Heaven  has  destined  for  you." 


60  A  GENTLEMAN  BORN. 

"That  is  rich !  Fancy  me  wedded  to  a  McCarty !  Mrs. 
McCarty,  if  you  please/'  she  exclaimed,  rising  and  bow 
ing  with  a  comic  grimace  to  her  beautiful  reflection  in  the 
mirror.  "Then  I  might  add  my  maiden  name,  and  my 
cards  should  read,  'Mrs.  Gordon  McCarty.'  Really,  it  is 
striking.  Esther,  I'm  half  inclined  to  grant  your  peti 
tion." 

"Your  are  just  too  sweet  for  anything,  May." 

"There,  there — don't  devour  me  with  your  caressesj 
lest  I  might  prove  a  bitter-sweet  to  you." 

"You  will  send  the  note  to  Harry  ?" 

"Oh,  yes;  give  me  the  tablet,  I'm  too  lazy  to  sit  at  the 
desk  this  morning." 

The  messenger  bearing  the  missive,  the  inditing  of 
which  had  caused  so  much  discussion  between  the  young 
ladies  at  Beaucliff,  was  obliged  to  leave  it  at  the  Brandon 
residence  to  be  delivered  to  the  young  gentleman  on  his 
return ;  for  Harold  and  Guyon  had  gone  out  for  a  spin  on 
the  charming  driveway  that  morning  behind  a  pair  of 
the  fastest  trotters  in  the  stables. 

When  the  young  gentlemen  entered  the  house  after  their 
drive,  the  dainty  missive  fi..a  Beaucliff  was  placed  in 
Harold's  hand. 

"By  Jove!"  he  exclaimed.  "See  here,  Guy,  it's  from 
the  Lady  Gordon  herself;  I  know  her  style,"  and,  hastily 
breaking  the  seal,  he  read : 

"MY  DEAR  MR.  BRANDON  :  I  sincerely  regret  the  over 
sight  by  which  your  friend,  Mr.  McCarty's,  name  was 
omitted  from  your  invite.  Nothing  will  give  me  greater 
pleasure  than  to  meet  him  to-night. 

"MABEL  GORDON." 

"How  about  it,  Guy,  are  you  satisfied  with  the  general 
tone  of  the  note  ?" 


THE  SEASON  AT  NEWPORT.  61 

"Yes — as  an  afterthought,  it  is  excellent." 
"That  sarcasm  does  not  become  you,  sir;  still,  I  cannot 
blame  you.     Mark,  she  says :  'Nothing  will  give  me  greater 
pleasi^.re!'     Is  it  an  omen,  eh,  Guy?" 

"Don't  be  foolish,  Hal;  of  course  it's  not  an  omen  or 
anything  except  a  polite  way  out  of  a  difficulty — smooth 
ing  down  one's  ruffled  spirits,  so  to  speak." 


62  A  GENTLEMAN  BORN. 


CHAPTER  VII. 
LOVE    AT     SIGHT. 

GUYON  had  prevailed  upon  his  friend  to  delay  their 
appearance  at  the  ball  to  the  latest  possible  moment.  Not 
that  he  was  at  all  nervous  considering  the  prospect  of  meet 
ing  so  many  notable  ladies  and  gentlemen,  but  as  he  told 
Harold,  that  he  might  behold  the  spectacle  complete,  in 
all  its  richness  of  color  and  appointments,  upon  his  en 
trance.  Nor  was  the  picture  which  greeted  his  vision  a 
shade  off  from  the  imaginary  one. 

In  the  reception-room,  countless  incandescent  bulbs  in 
massive  chandeliers  shed  a  flood  of  glory  on  the  scene, 
revealing  a  dazzling  whiteness  in  the  costumes  of  the 
ladies,  and  sparkling  in  the  gems  they  wore.  There  were 
no  end  of  palms  and  rare  exotic  plants,  while  the  grand 
old  mantel  was  one  massive  bank  of  roses.  The  night 
being  warm,  the  windows  were  thrown  open  to  the 
veranda,  which  extended  the  full  length  of  the  house  and 
which  was  transformed  into  a  pleasure  garden  lighted  with 
the  tiniest  bulbs  concealed  among  the  foliage  of  the  plants, 
and  among:  the  vines  which  partially  hid  the  scene  beyond. 

Mabel  Gordon,  in  a  superb  costume  of  white  satin  with 
pearls,  and  a  corsage  of  lilies  of  the  valley,  stood  by  the 
side  of  Mrs.  Barrington  receiving  her  guests. 

*'Is  that  the  lady  of  whom  you  spoke?"  whispered 
Guyon,  as  they  stood  for  a  moment  in  the  doorway. 

'•fes,  old  fellow.  By  Jove,  I  never  saw  her  look  so 
stunningly  beautiful !  Have  a  care,  Guy !" 


LOVE  AT  SIGHT.  63 

There  was  no  time  for  further  comment.  They  passed 
into  the  room,  and  a  moment  later  were  standing  before  the 
belle  of  the  evening. 

"So  you  have  come,  Harold?"  said  Mrs.  Barrington. 
"I  looked  for  you  earlier.  Mabel,  you  have  met  Mr. 
Brandon?" 

"Yes,  and  am  right  charmed  to  greet  you  to-night," 
murmured  the  Beauty,  glancing  from  him  to  the  gentle 
man  beside  him,  and  wondering  if  he  could  be  the  low 
Irish  chap  she  had  reluctantly  invited. 

"Allow  me  to  present  my  dearest  friend,  Mr.  McCarty," 
said  Harold. 

"Mabel,  my  fan,  child, — oh,  dear,  what  shall  I  do!" 
exclaimed  the  hostess,  the  color  fading  from  her  cheeks  as 
she  looked  upon  Guyon,  standing  there  with  gentlemanly 
grace  and  dignity. 

"Are  you  ill,  Madam?"  asked  Guyon,  with  evident 
alarm. 

"No,  it  has  passed  now.  Do  you  know,  Mr.  McCarty, 
you  remind  me  strangely  of  one  who  was  very  dear  to 
me?  I  am  so  pleased  that  you  have  come,  and  trust  that 
we  shall  see  more  of  you  at  Beaucliff.  Mabel,  this  is 
Harold's  college  chum  of  whom  we  have  heard  so  much." 

"So  delighted  to  know  you,  Mr.  McCarty,"  said  the 
young  lady,  laying  particular  emphasis  upon  the  name. 
"This  is  my  first  appearance  in  Newport  society,  you 
know.  Everything  is  so  different  here  from  the  South." 

"Indeed,  I  was  not  aware  of  that/'  replied  Guyon,  feast 
ing  his  eyes  upon  the  beautiful  vision  and  asking  himself 
was  it  a  real,  living  form,  or  a  fanciful  dream  to  vanish 
in  a  moment ;  but  her  eyes  met  his  unflinchingly,  thrilling 
him  with  a  strange,  subtle  emotion.  "We  are  at  least  on 
the  same  footing  in  one  respect,"  he  continued,  "for  this 
is  also  my  first  season  at  Newport," 


64  A  GENTLEMAN  BORN. 

"And  your  first  appearance  in  society,  too,  though  you 
do  not  look  it,"  was  Miss  Gordon's  mental  comment.  "My, 
he's  as  swell  as  any  gentleman  here." 

"I  am  afraid  that  we  must  plead  guilty  to  a  little  tardi 
ness  in  arriving,"  said  Harold. 

"Of  which  I  was  the  cause — no,  Hal,  I  will  take  a  just 
share  in  the  apology.  I  wished  to  catch  a  glimpse  of  the 
whole  scene  after  the  guests  had  assembled,"  Guyon  re 
marked. 

"Has  it  met  your  expectations  ?"  asked  the  hostess,  whose 
eyes,  wandering  about  the  room,  ever  reverted  to  Guyon. 

"Yes,  perfectly.     It  is  something  I  shall  never  forget." 

"You  have  an  artist's  eye,  I  think.  Wait  until  you  see 
the  veranda  and  the  ball-room." 

"Speaking  of  the  ball,  reminds  me  that  I  have  not  asked 
your  favor  for  a  dance,  Miss  Gordon,"  said  Harold. 

"You  cannot  expect  it  now,  sir,  at  this  hour.  Listen, 
they  are  summoning  us  to  the  dance !  We  are  right  late, 
I  reckon." 

"Just  one  valse,"  he  pleaded. 

"Well,  let  me  see,  there  are  two  vacant.  You  may 
have  them  both,"  she  added  quickly,  fearing  lest  Guyon 
might  claim  one  of  them. 

"I  am  not  so  selfish.  I  know  that  Mr.  McCarty  is 
waiting  for  an  opportunity  to  make  a  like  petition." 

"Really,  if  Miss  Gordon  will  be  so  kind,"  ventured 
Guyon. 

"I  did  not  know  that  you  cared  to  dance,"  remarked  the 
fair  miss,  carelessly. 

"Yes,  I  am  passionately  fond  of  it.  May  I  have  the 
valse  Mr.  Brandon  has  so  generously  relinquished?" 

"Certainly,  here  is  my  program. — Why,  Mr.  Barclay!" 
she  exclaimed,  as  a  dapper  young  chap  sauntered  up  to 
the  group,  "I  thought  you  would  never  come.  Our  cotillion 


LOVE  AT  SIGHT.  65 

is  called !  You  know  Harold  Brandon,  I  am  sure ;  and  this 
is  his  friend,  Mr.  McCarty." 

"I  tender  my  humblest  apologies,  Miss  Gordon.  Harry, 
glad  to  see  you  again.  Mr.  McCarty,  delighted  to  know 
you.  I'll  see  you  later,  boys;"  and  the  couple  moved  off 
among  the  guests  who  were  seeking  the  ball-room. 

"Are  you  not  going  to  dance  the  cotillion,  gentlemen?" 
inquired  Mrs.  Barrington. 

"If  you  will  permit  us  to  escort  you  to  a  place  where 
you  can  enjoy  the  dancing,  we  will  be  only  too  pleased," 
said  Harold.  "You  see,  we  arrived  so  late  we  could  not 
expect  to  obtain  partners  for  the  opening  dance." 

"That's  is  true ;  and  as  a  penalty,  I  will  ask  you  gentle 
men  to  join  the  group  of  elderly  people  at  the  far  end  of 
the  ball-room.  Your  Father  and  Mother  are  there, 
Harold,  and  so  is  my  husband,  whom  I  want  Mr.  McCarty 
to  meet." 

"You  will  accompany  us,  will  you  not?"  asked  Guyon, 
who  felt  singularly  attracted  to  this  lovely  lady.  "What 
is  it,"  he  asked  himself,  "that  causes  me  to  be  so  much  at 
ease  in  her  presence?" 

"Oh,  yes,  I  could  not  leave  you  alone  now;  and  I  shall 
have  to  hunt  up  a  charming  young  partner  for  you,  bye 
and  bye." 

"How  about  me,  Mrs.  Barrington?"  chimed  in 
Harold. 

"You  naughty  boy!"  exclaimed  the  hostess  tapping 
him  with  her  fan.  "As  though  you  have  not  met  all  the 
young  ladies  present  to-night.  I  fancy  you  would  not 
be  long  securing  a  partner,  even  though  you  knew  not 
one." 

"You  have  an  exalted  opinion  of  my  fascinating  quali 
ties,  I  think.  However,  I  shall  appropriate  your  remark 
as  a  compliment." 


66  A  GENTLEMAN  BORN. 

"Not  another  word,  sir !  Here  we  are  at  the  ball-room, 
and  you  must  manoeuvre  our  course  to  the  further  end, 
Harold." 

Guyon's  attention  was  at  once  attracted  and  his  senses, 
enthralled  by  the  splendor  of  the  place.  It  was  lavish 
in  all  its  appointments,  decorated  in  the  Louis  XIV. 
style,  lighted  by  numerous  incandescent  bulbs,  which 
were  hidden  among  the  heavy  pendants  of  crystal  on  either 
side  of  the  room.  At  one  end,  the  quaint  Venetian  win 
dows  opened,  as  those  of  the  reception-room,  upon  the 
veranda  where  the  musicians  were  stationed;  and  at  the 
other,  were  the  massive  doors  opening  to  the  banquet- 
hall. 

They  reached  the  desired  spot  where  Perry  Barrington 
was  entertaining  a  few  of  the  older  guests,  including  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Brandon.  As  they  approached,  the  latter  shook 
her  fan  with  a  comic  gesture  at  her  son,  saying: 

"For  shame,  Harry,  to  think  that  you  caused  Mr.  Mc- 
Carty  to  miss  the  first  dance,  where  he  might  have  met 
so  many  i~f-  'he  young  ladies." 

"I  have  met  one  of  them,"  replied  Guyon  quietly. 

"Miss  Gordon,  I  wager;  and  does  that  imply  that  you 
are  contented  for  the  nisrht  ?" 

"By  no  means ;  but  I  scarcely  think  I  can  meet  one  more 
beautiful." 

"Do  you  hear  him,  Perry?  And  you,  Muriel?  I  tell 
you,  you  will  have  to  keep  your  eyes  upon  this  young  gentle 
man  to-night." 

"Mr.  Barrington,  I  want  you  to  know  Harold's  friend, 
Mr.  McCarty,"  said  Muriel;  and  Perry,  taking  Guyon's 
hand,  experienced  a  strange  sensation  permeating  his 
whole  body.  "Clarence's  self,  or  his  son !"  he  thought. — 
"Great  God,  I  am  undone!"  Still,  his  face  betrayed  no 
sign  of  his  emotion  as  he  greeted  the  young  gentleman. 


LOVE  AT  81GRT.  67 

"You  are  welcome,  sir,"  he  said,  "as  Harry's  friend  and 
for  your  own  sake.  We  must  see  you  often  at  Beaucliff." 

'Thank  you,  sir,  I  shall  be  most  happy  to  avail  myself 
of  your  invitation/' 

"So  you  are  the  young  gentleman  who  carried  off  the 
honors  at  the  'Varsity  ?  Mr.  Brandon  here  has  been  sing 
ing  your  praises  so  long  that  we  almost  thought  we  knew 
you.  And  you  are  not  an  Irish  lad  after  all,  as  they  re 
ported  you?" 

"No,  sir,  I  am  not  Irish,  as  far  I  know.  I  am  a  New 
York  boy." 

"But  your  name  is  decidedly  Irish,  is  it  not?"  queried 
Mrs.  Brandon. 

"What  you  say  is  true,  Madam.  My  parents  are  of  that 
nationality." 

"You  are  a  son  of  the  famous  contractor  of  that  name  ?" 
ventured  Perry,  who  was  more  and  more  convinced  that 
he  was  conversing  with  Guy  on  Beaumont;  yet  he  was 
anxious  to  hear  him  proclaim  his  parentage,  that  his 
wife,  whose  gaze  he  more  than  once  detected  resting  upon 
her  son,  might  be  disillusionized  of  such  an  idea. 

"Yes,  sir,"  replied  Guyon,  looking  him  steadily  in  the 
eye,  at  which  Perrv  turned  about  nervously  and  pretended 
to  be  watching  the  dancers.  "My  Father,  Mr.  John  Mc- 
Carty,  is  the  person  of  whom  you  speak." 

"See,  Muriel!"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Brandon,  "the  cotillion 
is  finished ;  and  here  comes  that  charming  girl,  Belle  Har- 
court.  I  promised  her  that  I  would  introduce  her  to  Mr. 
McCarty,"  she  whispered. 

"No  Harcourts,  tennis-courts  or  any  other  courts  for 
me!"  said  Harold.  "I'm  off  on  another  quest." 

"Don't  forget  Esther  to-night,"  said  his  Mother  in  a 
little  aside. 

"No  fear  of  that,  Mater.     Take  care  of  yourself,  Guy!" 


68  A  GENTLEMAN  BORN. 

No  one  heard  the  last  word  but  Perry;  and  if  he  had 
a  doubt  as  to  Guvon's  identity,  it  vanished  now.  Tor 
tured  beyond  measure,  and  feeling  that  he  must  show  his 
imitation  if  he  remained  longer  in  the  group,  he  asked  Mr. 
Brandon  to  join  him  in  a  quiet  smoke  on  the  veranda, 
leaving  the  ladies  to  their  friendly  gossip. 

"Miss  Harcourt,  this  is  Mr.  McCarty,  of  whom  you  have 
heard,  no  doubt/'  said  Mrs.  Brandon,  as  her  protege  ap 
proached,  a  petite  blonde,  gowned  in  a  costume  of  pink. 

"I  am  pleased  to  know  you,  Mr.  McCarty,"  she  mur 
mured;  then  to  Mrs.  Barrington:  "Do  you  know,  I  am 
tired  to  death  of  that  dreadful  dance?  I  always  do  de 
test  cotillions;  and  I  saw  you  over  here  so  cozy  and  com 
fortable,  and  thought  you  wouldn't  mind  if  I  intruded," 
casting  a  shy  glance  up  at  Guyon,  whose  tall,  handsome 
figure  towered  above  her.  "My,  he's  just  grand,  and  not 
a  bit  Irish !"  sla  thought. 

"We  are  only  too  pleased  to  have  you,  dear."  replied  the 
hostess.  "I  was  only  now  looking  out  for  a  partner  for 
Mr.  McCarty  in  the  next  valse." 

"Perhaps  you  are  too  fatigued  ?"  said  Guyon. 

"Too  fatigued  for  a  valse?  You  don't  know  me,  doos 
he,  Mrs.  Brandon?" 

"You  will  give  me  the  pleasure,  then?"  queried  Guyon. 

"Certainly;  it's  the  only  one  left  on  my  program.  I 
really  don't  know  how  it  was  missed,"  she  added,  knowing 
in  her  heart  that  she  had  saved  this  very  dance  for  a  par 
ticular  young  gentleman  she  had  been  dying  to  meet. 

"We  must  be  off,  now,  the  music  invites  us."  said  Guyon. 

"I'm  ready.  Eeally,  I  didn't  think  you  could  dance  so 
well !"  she  exclaimed. 

^'Didn't  you?    I'm  very  fond  of  it,  I  assure  you." 

"Did  you  dance  much  at  College  ?" 

"Not  often— we  hadn't  time  for  that,  you  know." 


LOVE  AT  SIGHT.  69 

"Of  course  not.  I  bet  you  went  in  for  foot-ball,  didn't 
you,  now?" 

"Certainly;  they  all  do  up  there."- 

"And  boating?" 

"I  must  confess  to  a  passion  for  that." 

"I  knew  it.  You  look  so  big  and  strong,  I  fancy  you 
could  manage  a  yacht  all  by  yourself,  couldn't  you?" 

"Well,  I  wouldn't  be  afraid  to  try." 

"Do  you  know,  George  Barclay  has  the  grandest 
yacht." 

"Has  he?" 

Yes,  indeed;  and  he  takes  us  girls  out  often.     It's 
too  jolly  for  anything !" 

"He  runs  it  himself?"  ventured  Guyon. 

"Not  he!  Doesn't  know  the  first  thing  about  it;  but 
he  has  his  own  captain  and  crew — I  tell  you,  he's  quite  a 
swell." 

"No  wonder  the  young  ladies  fancy  his  company." 

"I  didn't  say  they  all  liked  him.     There  he  is  now  with 
Miss  Gordon.     I  bet  she's  given  him  every  dance !" 
•    "What  makes  you  think  so  ?" 

"Oh,  nothing;  only  they  are  so  much  together.  Don't 
you  think  Mabel  Gordon  is  perfect  ?"  she  asked  in  her  gush 
ing  style. 

"She  is  decidedly  beautiful,"  replied  Guyon  in  such  an 
earnest  tone  that  his  partner  looked  up  at  him  in  sur 
prise. 

He  was  begining  to  tire  of  her  endless  chatter;  but  he 
enjoyed  the  dance,  and,  as  Mrs.  Brandon  had  said,  her 
motion  was  most  graceful..  His  eyes  now  sought  the 
vision  which  had  passed  quite  near  to  him;  and  he  saw 
Miss  Gordon,  flushed  with  the  excitement  of  the  valse, 
her  eyes  sparkling  with  merriment,  apparently  drinking 
in  the  words  which  Barclay  was  uttering.  "She  grows 


70  A  GENTLEMAN  BORN. 

more  beautiful  each  time  I  look  at  her,"  thought  Guyon ; 
and  with  the  thought  came  a  longing  in  his  heart  for  the 
moment  when  he  might  have  the  happiness  which  Barclay 
now  enjoyed.  "Will  she  he  as  brilliant  when  I  am  in  his 
place?"  he  asked  himself. 

"Did  you  say  anything,  sir?"  murmured  the  damsel  at 
his  side. 

"Not  that  I  know  of.     Are  you  not  tired?" 

"No,  indeed,  only — only,  you  have  been  looking  about 
in  so  abstracted  a  manner,  I  feared  lest  you  yourself 
might  be  weary." 

"Not  at  all,  I  was  only  thinking  a  little.  Pardon  me, 
it  was  very  rude." 

"Oh,  I  don't  mind  now  that  you've  come  back  from 
dreamland;  only,  please  don't  vanish  entirely." 

"Here  we  are  at  the  end  of  it.  May  I  procure  something 
for  you?" 

"I  don't  mind  having  an  ice,  please."  And  Guyon, 
leaving  his  partner  with  Mrs.  Brandon,  where  a  bevy  of 
young  girls  had  congregated,  hastened  to  procure  the  de 
sired  refreshment.  On  his  return,  he  was  introduced  to 
all  the  girls  in  the  group,  who,  notwithstanding  their  re 
luctance  to  admitting  him  into  their  set,  were  won  at  first 
by  the  example  of  Mrs.  Barrington  and  her  friend,  after 
wards  by  the  polished  manners  of  the  young  gentleman 
himself. 


A  SOUTHERN  BELLE.  71 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

A  SOUTHERN  BELLE. 

DURING  the  time  which  intervened  before  the  dance 
which  Guyon  so  ardently  coveted,  he  found  many  part 
ners  among  the  young  ladies  present,  most  of  whom  were 
captivated  by  his  graceful  dancing  and  his  handsome 
appearance.  He  was  enjoying  the  evening  immensely, 
entering  into  the  conversation  of  the  gay  demoiselles  at  his 
side,  but  ever  mindful  of  the  fact  that  not  one  of  these 
was  capable  of  awakening  a  single  ray  of  sentiment  in 
his  heart. 

Finally,  his  valse  was  announced.  He  approached  where 
the  Southern  belle  sat,  the  centre  of  a  group  of  young 
gentlemen,  who  were  vying  with  each  other  in  their  de 
voted  attention. 

"Ah,  Mr.  McCarty,"  she  said,  "you  have  not  forgotten 
me  entirely,  I  see/' 

"That  would  have  been  impossible/'  he  replied  earnestly, 
as  they  moved  out  on  the  floor. 

"You  appear  to  have  been  enjoying  yourself  right  well 
in  the  meantime." 

"Why  should  I  not?  Everything  is  so  novel  to  me; 
besides,  I  have  had  excellent  partners  this  evening." 

"They  are  all  dear,  sweet  girls !  Didn't  you  find  them 
right  captivating?" 

"Captivating?     No;  I  cannot  say  that  I  did." 

"But  still  you  had  not  leisure  to  say  a  word  to  me  dur 
ing  all  this  time,"  she  said  with  just  a  touch  of  pique 


72  A  GENTLEMAN  BORN. 

in  her  tone,  glancing  at  him  with  the  full  lustre  of  her 
deep  blue  eyes  until  his  heart  beat  with  a  strange,  new  hap 
piness. 

"Did  you  really  want  me  ?"  he  asked  softly.  "Honestly, 
I  feared  to  intrude  into  your  gay,  happy  set;  that  is  the 
reason  I  did  not  seek  you  before.  Will  you  permit  me  to 
say  that  I  have  been  longing  for  this  dance  ever  since  1 
placed  my  name  on  your  program  ?" 

"Another  conquest,  sure  as  fate !"  thought  Mabel ;  then 
aloud:  "Please  don't  say  any  more  in  that  strain  Do 
you  know,  I  am  the  veriest  heretic  where  sentiment  is 
concerned." 

"I  assure  you,  it  is  not  idle  sentiment,  Miss  Gordon; 
I  speak  from  the  earnestness  of  my  feelings." 

"Well,  I  shall  grant  that  you  are  honest — still,  let  us 
change  the  topic.  Where  did  you  learn  to  dance  so  well, 
Mr.  McCarty?" 

"That  same  question  has  been  asked  by  almost  every 
young  lady  with  whom  I  danced  to-night.  I  really  don't 
know;  it  seems  to  come  naturally  to  me." 

"Everything  comes  naturally  to  him,  I  reckon,"  thought 
the  belle.  "One  would  think  he  was  a  born  gentleman, 
only  he  is  more  sincere  in  his  manner  than  most  of 
them." 

"You  have  never  been  South,  have  you?"  queried  Miss 
Gordon. 

"No,  but  from  what  I  have  heard  of  the  Southern 
people,  I  should  like  nothing  better  than  an  extended  so 
journ  among  them." 

"Do  you  think  that  I  am  a  fair  specimen  of  a  South 
erner,  as  far  as  your  knowledge  of  them  goes  ?" 

"A  most  fair  representative,  I  imagine.  I  have  pic 
tured  the  young  lady  of  the  South  as  one  of  surpassing 
beauty." 


A  SOUTHERN  BELLE.  73 

"Stop  right  there!  You  do  not  wish  me  to  quarrel 
with  you  when  we  are  getting  on  so  nicely?  No  senti 
ment  and  no  flattery !  please  remember." 

"I  really  did  not  intend  it  for  flattery.  Surely,  you 
must  concede  that  flattery  is  generally  allied  to  falsehood, 
whereas  my  words  are  the  sober  truth." 

"I  respect  you  for  your  honesty,  sir,"  she  said  quietly, 
letting  her  eyes  dwell  for  a  moment  on  his.  "My,  what 
grand  eyes  he  has,"  was  her  mental  comment;  "one  can 
almost  read  his  soul  in  them.  Poor  fellow !  I  really  be 
lieve  he's  smitten  just  a  little.  I'll  keep  it  up  for  a  while 
just  to  see  what  length  he'll  go." 

"Then  you  must  allow  me  to  say  that  you  are  more  beau 
tiful  than  my  fancy's  picture.  If  all  Southern  ladies  are 
like  you,  it  was  a  blessing  that  the  war  terminated  so  hap- 
pily." 

"I  beg  to  differ  from  you  there !  In  my  opinion  it  did 
not  terminate  happily." 

"Te  shall  not  quarrel  upon  the  old  question.  Nothing 
was  further  from  my  thoughts.  I  intended  to  say  that, 
had  it  been  otherwise,  wrapt  in  your  impenetrable  mantle 
of  conservatism,  we  poor  Northerners  would  have  had  as 
small  a  chance  of  seeing  the  visions  of  beauty  as  we  have 
of  gazing  upon  the  veiled  sirens  of  the  Orient." 

"Very  well  said, — but  let  me  tell  you  right  now,  we 
could  have  existed  pretty  nicely  without  you  all." 

The  dance  here  came  to  an  end ;  and  Mabel,  saying  that 
the  heat  of  the  room  was  unbearable,  Guyon  suggested 
that  they  stroll  out  upon  the  veranda. 

"We  can  walk  along  to  the  further  end/'  he  said,  "away 
from  the  dazzling  light  which  streams  from  the  ball 
room." 

"We  shall  find  a  seat  there,  I  reckon.  My,  isn't  the 
air  delicious!" 


74  A  GENTLEMAN  BORN. 

"Aren't  you  afraid  of  catching  cold?  Shall  I  pro 
cure  a  wrap?"  he  asked  earnestly. 

"Not  for  the  world.  We  are  not  going  to  remain  here 
all  night,  you  know.  I  am  engaged  for  the  next  dance — 
but  I  will  let  that  go/' 

"You  are  exceedingly  kind  to  me,"  he  murmured. 

The  place  where  they  were  seated  was  at  the  distant 
end  of  the  veranda,  remote  from  the  few  young  couples, 
who,  like  themselves,  were  seeking  a  change  from  the 
glamour  and  heat  of  the  room.  In  front,  through  the 
thickly  woven  stems  of  woodbine  which  formed  a  frame  to 
the  picture,  they  looked  out  upon  the  moonlit  heavens, 
where  just  a  few  fleecy  clouds  were  sailing  in  the  boundless 
blue ;  then  down  upon  the  waters  where  a  pathway  of  glory 
appeared  shimmering  in  golden  rays  and  trans 
figuring  the  craft,  that  occasionally  crossed  it.  into  phan 
tom  ships  of  airy  lightness. 

From  the  lawn  came  the  fragrance  of  the  roses  which 
mingled  with  the  salty  breath  of  the  sea;  while  the 
music  of  the  dance  now  begun,  seemed  sweeter  and 
softer  from  the  distance. 

"Can  you  imagine  anything  more  perfect  than  this?" 
asked  Guyon,  whose  very  soul  was  stirred  by  the  beauty 
of  the  scene,  and  by  the  fact  that  she  was  beside  him 
whose  presence  gave  the  one  touch  of  reality,  making  it 
all  complete. 

"You  admire  it,  then?  I  reckoned  you  would;  that 
was  the  reason  I  suggested  the  spot.  After  the  excite 
ment  of  the  dance  I  always  find  rest  in  such  a  scene 
as  this." 

"It  was  good  in  you  to  think  that  our  tastes  might  be  sim 
ilar,  at  least  in  this." 

"Oh,  I  don't  know  so  much  about  that !  What  would 
you  say  if  I  declared  that  I  did  it  more  b\  way  of  experi- 


A  SOUTHERN  BELLE.  75 

ment,  just  to  see  if  the  beauties  of  nature  had  power  to 
move  you  ?" 

"I  would  say  that  the  trial  were  needless,  since  I  have 
already  proved  that  beauty  can  hold  me  the  veriest  cap 
tive." 

"Have  you?  I  surely  have  forgotten,"  she  answered, 
gazing  dreamily  out  upon  the  sea,  while  a  moonbeam, 
stealing  through  the  vines,  played  for  a  moment  upon  her 
features. 

"Oh,  if  I  had  the  courage  to  speak,"  thought  Guyon, 
the  depths  of  his  nature  now  thoroughly  aroused. 

"You  cannot  have  forgotten  what  I  said  of  your  beauty," 
he  murmured. 

"No,  but  I  wish  to  forget  it.  How  can  any  beauty, 
such  as  mine  even — supposing  that  I  am  beautiful — com 
pare  with  nature?  Solve  that  question  and  I  shall  feel 
that  I  am  repaid  with  interest  for  my  rudeness  in  forfeit 
ing  the  present  dance  to  my  partner." 

"All  beauty  is  relative,  I  think.  Whether  we  gaze  upon 
the  rarest  picture  that  nature  can  produce,  a  sun- burst  of 
roseate  splendor  heralding  the  day,  an  afterglow  of  crim 
son  and  gold  in  the  heavens  at  eventide,  or  the  moonlight 
resting  upon  the  bosom  of  the  deep.  They  all  affect  us 
differently  as  our  senses  are  attuned  to  greet  them.  If 
they  are  finely  strung  and  in  harmony,  these  visions, 
stealing  in,  create  sensations  of  joy  and  happiness  often 
times  impossible  to  describe;  if  they  are  harsh  and  want 
ing  all  musical  rhythm,  then  these  self  same  scenes  but 
harshly  rasp  upon  the  senses,  causing  bitterness  and  wor- 
row.  So  it  is  with  personal  beauty — Am  I  fatiguing  you, 
Miss  Gordon?" 

"Not  at  all.  Your  allusions  are  so  poetical,  I  am  very 
much  interested." 

"When  the  heart  is  not  overshadowed  by  shapes  and 


wg  A  GENTLEMAN  BORN. 

images  of  little  worth,  when  the  intellect  is  keenest  to 
apprehend  all  that  is  noblest  and  best,  then  does  that  great 
est  form  of  beauty  enter  in  and  seat  itself  as  upon  a 
throne,  creating  sometimes  the  nearest  approach  to  bliss 
that  it  is  possible  for  man  to  attain/' 

"How  strangely  you  speak,"  she  said.  "One  would 
think — pardon  me — one  would  almost  think  you  had 
known  what  love  is." 

"And  if  I  said  that  I  did?" 

"Please  don't  say  it !  I  always  have  a  dread  of  a  man 
telling  me  that  he  has  been  in  love  Oh,  ever  so  many 
times.  They  never  meant  it,  and  they  have  to  acknowl- 
,edge  it  in  the  end." 

"But  I  assure  you  that  I " 

"Hello!  have  I  found  you  at  last,  you  pair  of  moon- 
gazers." 

"Why,  Harold  Brandon,  where  did  you  drop  from  ?"  ex 
claimed  Mabel,  rising  hastily  as  this  gentleman  appeared 
on  the  scene  so  suddenly,  that  Guyon  wae  shocked,  fear 
ing  lest  he  might  have  heard  his  unfinished  utterance  and 
construed  it  into  a  declaration  of  love. 

"Honestly,  I  have  been  searching  everywhere.  Mr.  Lyt- 
ton  is  frantic  because  you  were  not  visible  for  his  dance; 
and  I  determined  not  to  lose  mine,  as  it  is  the  last." 

"Nor  shall  you!  I  am  perfectly  rested  now.  Mr. 
McCarty  has  been  giving  me  some  poetical  ideas  regard 
ing  beauty." 

"I  trust  that  they  answered  your  inquiry,  Miss  Gordon," 
said  Guyon  in  a  low  tone. 

"Perfectly.  When  I  need  further  instruction  I  shall  call 
on  you." 

Guyon  stood  for  some  moments  gazing  after  the  Beauty 
r.s  she  disappeared  chatting  merrily  with  Harold.  "She 
('OOP  not  care  for  me  at  all,"  he  thought — "and  why  should 


A  SOUTHERN  BELLE.  77 

she?  What  claim  have  I  to  her  esteem,  not  to  say  her 
love  ?  Curse  it  all !  If  I  knew  of  my  parentage — but  to 
breathe  a  doubt  of  that,  to  deny  the  good  old  contractor's 
being  my  Father,  would  only  lay  my  position  open  to  the 

worst  suspicions.  And  yet,  she  appeared  so  much  at  ease 
by  my  side!  Allowed  me  to  converse  so  freely.  God 
knows  to  what  limits  my  foolishness  might  have  gone, 
had  not  Hal  rescued  me !" 

By  this  time,  he  had  wrought  himself  to  so  high  a  pitch 
of  excitement,  that  he  knew  he  would  betray  himself  if  he 
ventured  into  the  presence  of  Miss  Gordon  that  night.  His 
better  judgment  bade  him  leave  the  place  at  once. 

"So,  quietly  entering  the  reception-room,  and  finding 
Mrs.  Barrington  alone,  he  made  his  excuses,  pleading  a 
nervous  headache. 

"You  know  it  is  my  first  real  ball,"  he  said,  "and  I  feel 
that  I  have  done  too  much  for  one  night/' 

"You  do  not  look  well,"  replied  the  hostsss,  gazing  long 
ingly  at  his  pale,  haggard  features.  "Just  as  I  have  seen 
Clarence  look  so  often,"  she  thought.  "It  is  strange  that 
he  should  resemble  him !" 

"You  will  pardon  my  abrupt  departure,  and  say  to 
Miss  Gordon  that  I  will  bear  my  excuses  in  person  to 
morrow,  if  I  may." 

"Certainly,  we  will  be  pleased  to  see  you." 

"Tl-e  guests  won't  notice  my  going,"  thought  Guyon, 
as  he  walked  down  the  road  to  the  Brandon  home. 
"Only  Hal  will  suspect  something — Hang  it  all !  I  have 
made  an  ass  of  myself,  and  I  must  take  my  medicine." 


78  A  GENTLEMAN  BORN. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

RESOLUTIONS. 

HAROLD  knocked  at  his  friend's  door  that  night  be 
fore  retiring,  and  entering,  in  response  to  the  invitation, 
found  Guyon  ensconced  in  an  easy  chair  puffing  away 
at  a  cigarette,  seemingly  absorbed  in  meditation. 

"Pardon  my  late,  or  I  should  say,  early  visit,  Guy. 
I  have  been  a  little  worried  about  you  since  you  disappeared 
so  mysteriously  from  our  midst." 

'Have  you,  old  fellow?  It's  not  worth  your  while,  I 
assure  you, — merely  one  of  my  old  headaches." 

"lou  are  certain  that  it  is  not  one  of  your  new  heart 
aches,  now  ?  Give  me  a  cigarette,  will  you  ?  My  case  is  in 
the  other  room;"  and  he  seated  himself  a-straddle  a  chair 
opposite  Guyon,  resting  his  arms  on  the  back  of  it,  and 
looked  steadily  into  his  friend's  countenance  for  a  few 
moments;  then  he  continued:  "Humph!  I'm  half  in 
clined  to  believe  that  I  have  diagnosed  your  case  correctly 
after  all  your  subterfuges." 

"See  here,  Hal!  I  suppose  you  mean  well  in  these 
railleries ;  but  thev  grate  upon  me  somehow  to-night.  In 
fact,  I  must  ask  you  to  change  the  subject." 

"All  right,  I'm  at  your  service,  Guy.  One  word  and 
I  have  done.  I  cannot  leave  you,  tortured,  as  I  see  you 
are,  by  some  untoward  circumstance,  without  asking  a 
question  which  you  may  answer  or  not  as  you  will." 

"Fire  away.  If  it  is  but  one,  I  will  try  to  satisfy 
you." 


RESOLUTIONS.  79 

•     "You  are  favorably  impressed  with  Miss  Gordon?" 

"Most  favorably,  Hal.  1  believe  that  she  possesses 
more  real,  genuine  warmth  of  nature  than  you  gave  her 
credit  for." 

"You  think  so  ?"  asked  Harold,  inhaling  a  vigorous  pull 
at  his  cigarette,  and  watching  the  smoke  as  he  slowly 
ejected  it  through  his  nostrils.  "Well,  I  am  a  little  better 
acquainted  with  her  than  you  are;  and  if  she  betrayed  any 
ardent  phase  of  her  nature,  I  warn  you  to  have  a  care." 

"You  insinuate  that  she  is  a  coquette — a  flirt !"  exclaimed 
Guyon  angrily. 

"Easy  now,  easy,  Guy.  You  can't  afford  to  quarrel 
with  me,  you  know;  besides,  I  am  speaking  in  your  own 
interest.  I  do  not  crave  the  lightest  favor  from  the 
Beauty,  hence  we  cannot  be  rivals.  I  do  not  say  that  she 
is  a  coquette  in  the  ordinary  acceptation  of  the  word ;  no, 
I  don't  think  that  Mabel  Gordon  would  wittingly  lower 
herself  to  that  degree.  Still,  there  is  just  enough  of  the 
devil  in  her  make-up  to  cause  her  to  find  enjoyment  in 
playing  with  an  honest  chap  such  as  you." 

"For  Heaven's  sake,  cease,  Hal!  Surely  it  is  not  as 
bad  as  that." 

"Have  you  the  courage  to  see  it  out,  you  will  soon  dis 
cover  that  my  words  are  true." 

"I  have  the  courage.  You  know  me  well  enough  to 
consider  that  I  am  not  balked  by  a  trifling  opposition." 

"Very  well ;  when  do  you  propose  to  call  upon  the  young 
lady?"' 

"This  morning,  some  time  before  noon." 

"I  will  leave  you,  that  you  may  recuperate  your  powers 
for  the  conflict.  And  seriously,  Guy,"  he  continued, 
laying:  one  hand  on  his  friend's  shoulder,  and  grasping 
his  hand  with  the  other,  "don't  be  afraid  to  talk  with  me 
when  you  are  in  trouble.  I  ain't  as  old  as  Methuselah, 


gO  A  GENTLEMAN  BORN. 

nor  as  wise  as  Solomon ;  but  it  is  better  to  have  the  matter 
out  with  someone,  even  if  we  should  come  to  blows  over  it ; 
and  I  don't  think  we  could  go  that  far." 

"No,  Hal,  I'll  think  of  what  you  have  said.  Perhaps 
it's  as  well  that  I  should  take  my  dose  even  at  this  early 
stage.  I  don't  think  that  I  really  love  Miss  Gordon; 
still,  she  has  fascinated  me  strangely." 

After  a  few  hours'  sleep,  Guyon  arose,  dressed,  and 
started  down  for  his  morning  plunge.  He  was  perfectly 
at  home  in  the  water,  a  true  son  of  Neptune,  as  Harold 
called  him; — and,  after  a  half -hour's  battling  with  the 
breakers,  he*  came  back  to  the  house  another  man,  with  so 
fresh  and  vigorous  an  air,  and  so  hearty  an  appetite  for 
breakfast  that  Mrs.  Brandon  rallied  him  upon  his  pre 
tended  (  ?)  illness  of  the  previous  night. 

"I'm  half  inclined  to  think  that  your  plea  was  the  veriest 
excuse.  You  had  an  engagement  down-town,  didn't  you, 
now?" 

"I  assure  you,  I  returned  home  immediately  after  leav 
ing  Beaucliff,"  replied  Guyon.  "Harold  can  vouch  that 
I  was  not  looking  well  when  he  came  to  my  room." 

"That  I  can ;  and  I  am  more  than  astonished  to  find  you 
so  refreshingly  buoyant  this  morning.  Has  your  revered 
sire,  Neptune,  given  you  a  panacea  against  all  future 
ills?" 

"Doubtless  he  has,"  said  Guyon  with  a  smile.  "I  wish 
I  could  induce  you  to  accompany  me  every  morning; 
it  is  simply  glorious !" 

"No,  I  thank  you;  I  prefer  the  embraces  of  dear  old 
Morpheus.  But,  speaking  of  the  sea,  how  would  you  like 
to  take  a  run  out  this  afternoon,  Guy?" 

"Nothing  will  please  me  better/* 

"It's  a  go,  then;-  the  weather  is  fine;  old  Ocean  is  in 
capital  humor,  is  he  not?" 


RESOLUTIONS.  81 

"Excellent !" 

"And  my  yacht  is  only  waiting  to  spread  her  wings." 

Later  in  the  morning,  Guyon,  having  accepted  the  offer 
of  his  friend's  side-bar  and  trotter,  drove  over  to  Beaucliff. 
On  the  way,  his  spirits  rose  with  the  exhilarating  breath 
of  the  morning  air,  and  the  perfumes  from  the  trees  and 
flowers;  and  his  own  happy  nature  was  once  more  light 
and  free  from  the  gloom  which  had  depressed  him.  "Of 
course  I  was  an  ass  to  believe  that  she  loved  me,"  he  solilo 
quized;  "it  was  the  glamour  of  the  place,  and  maybe  her 
beauty  that  fascinated  me.  I  must  not  let  my  senses  play 
havoc  with  my  judgment  so  easily  or  my  purposes  in  life 
will  come  to  naught  before  they  have  reached  maturity." 

Arrived  at  the  stately  mansion,  he  alighted,  called  a 
colored  boy,  who  was  about,  to  take  his  rig,  and  presented 
his  card  at  the  door.  Ushered  into  the  reception-room,  he 
waited  what  seemed  an  age  to  him,  before  Miss  Gordon  made 
her  appearance,  not  a  jot  less  beautiful  after  the  fatigue 
of  the  previous  night;  her  morning-gown  of  nile-green 
most  becomingly  setting  off  her  clear  complexion,  which 
required  no  touch  of  carmine  to  give  it  color. 

"I  trust  that  I  am  not  intruding  at  this  hour?"  said 
Guyon,  as  he .  rose  to  greet  her. 

"It  is  rather  early,  though  Mrs.  Harrington  said  you 
would  call  this  morning." 

"I  wish  to  apologize  for  leaving  so  abruptly  last  night." 

"Oh,  yes,  you  did  leave  right  strangely,  now  that  I  re 
call  it,"  replied  Miss  Gordon,  toying  with  the  tassel  of  her 
gown. 

"It  was  after  our  little  conversation  on  the  veranda," 
Guyon  continued. 

"Was  it?  Keally,  I  don't  see  what  that  had  to  do  with 
it." 

"I  am  pleased  that  you  do  not.     In  fact,  it  should  not 


82  A  GENTLEMAN  BORN. 

have  caused  my  leaving ;  only,  as  I  told  our  hostess,  I  was 
somewhat  wearied.  My  nerves  were  a  little  overwrought." 

"Deary  me!  I  am  right  sorry,  Mr.  McCarty,  that  my 
conversation  should  have  so  affected  you." 

"You  misunderstand  me,  Miss  Gordon.  It  was  not 
your  conversation.  I  could  have  remained  there  for  hours 
at  your  side;  but  when  you  left  the  veranda,  it  seemed  to 
me  that  the  charming  picture  would  lose  all  its  effect, 
should  I  return  to  the  ball-room." 

"I  am  afraid  that  I  do  not  follow  you,  Mr.  McCarty.  Of 
caurse,  one  could  not  carry  a  moonlit  scene  into  a  well- 
lighted  room.  Pardon  me,  I  am  always  stupid  in  the  morn 
ing." 

"Not  in  the  least !  You  catch  my  meaning  exactly.  I 
could  not  carry  the  scene  into  the  ball-room;  nor  could  I, 
seeing  you  in  another's  company,  imagine  you  still  at  my 
side." 

"I  did  not  think  you  were  so  sentimental ;  and  asyoumay 
remember  that  sentiment  is  my  chief  bete  nolr,  let  us  talk 
of  something  else.  How  is  Mrs.  Brandon  this  morning?" 

"Well,  and  as  bright  as  usual.  She  wished  me  to 
present  her  compliments  and  her  love  to  Mrs.  Barrington 
and  to  yourself." 

"Thanks,  for  remembering — so  few  gentlemen  bear  such 
trifles  in  mind." 

"Is  a  woman's  love  a  trifle  ?" 

"I  don't  know,  I'm  sure!     Isn't  it  a  delightful  day?" 

"It  is  a  perfect  day  for  July !  I  have  been  down  early 
to  pay  my  respects  to  Neptune." 

"Have  you  really?  That  reminds  me  that  I  have  an  en 
gagement  this  afternoon  with  a  yachting  party." 

"And  so  have  I.  In  whose  yacht  do  you  sail,  may  I 
ask?" 


RESOLUTIONS.  83 

"In  Mr.  Barclay's,  of  course.  I  thought  he  was  the  only 
young  gentleman  here  who  possessed  a  yacht." 

"No,  Harold's  arrived  yesterday,  so  he  informed  me  at 
breakfast,  and  we  are  going  out  on  a  trial  trip.  It  is 
a  beauty,  I  believe." 

"It  cannot  be  better  than  Mr.  Barclay's.  We  have  been 
out  with  him  often.  She  sails  so  swiftly  and  gracefully! 
You  can  scarcely  feel  the  motion;  then,  the  appointments 
of  the  saloon  are  too  grand  for  anything." 

"I  trust  that  you  will  give  Harold  and  myself  the  pleas 
ure  of  taking  you  out  some  day." 

"I  would  be  delighted, — that  is,  if  Mrs.  Brandon 
went." 

"We  will  get  up  a  party  next  week,  if  you  say  so.  By  the 
way,  Miss  Gordon,  Miss  Harcourt  was  singing  the  praises 
of  Mr.  Barclay's  yacht  to  me  last  night.  She  says  that  he 
knows  nothing  at  all  about  managing  the  craft." 

"She  talks  so  fast,  does  that  dear  girl !  Sometimes 
she  forgets  what  she  is  saying.  Of  course  he  knows  all 
about  it — at  least,  I  suppose  he  does,  for  he  has  given  his 
captain  a  holiday  to-day,  and  will  take  care  of  us  him 
self,  he  says.  Is  there  any  danger,  Mr.  McCarty  ?" 

"Not  the  least,  providing  that  'a  squall  does  not  show  up ; 
and  really,  judging  from  the  appearance  of  the  weather, 
and  the  unruffled  surface  of  the  water,  the  day  is  perfect  for 
sailing." 

"I  am  not  afraid,"  she  said;  "for  I  have  perfect  con 
fidence  in  Mr.  Barclay;  but  the  other  young  ladies  are  so 
timid." 

"Always  Barclay,"  thought  Guyon.  "She  certainly  cares 
something  for  him  or  his  name  would  not  be  so  frequently 
on  her  lips." 

"I  have  tired  you  too  long  with  my  presence,  Miss  Gor- 


84  A  GENTLEMAN  BORN. 

don,"  he  said;  "still,  you  have  not  yet  pronounced  my 
pardon/' 

"Haven't  I?  Then  consider  it  spoken.  You  must 
come  again,  Mr.  McCarty,  when  Mrs.  Barrington  and 
Esther  will  entertain  you." 

"May  I  not  call  upon  you  ?"  he  asked  as  he  stood  at  the 
door. 

"If  you  care  to ;  however,  I  warn  you  that  I  may  he  rude 
and  uninteresting  sometimes,  just  as  you  have  found  me 
to-day." 

"If  as  interesting,  then  I  shall  be  more  than  repaid," 
he  murmured. 

"No  compliments,  please!" 

"I  assure  you,  I  speak  earnestly." 

"Great  Scott,  how  he  wearied  me!"  said  the  Beauty,  as 
the  door  closed  upon  her  guest.  "I  thought  that  my  in 
difference  and  idle  conversation  would  disgust  him,  but  he 
is  almost  as  bad  as  he  was  last  night." 

And  Guyon,  notwithstanding  the  coldness  of  manner 
with  which  Miss  Gordon  had  received  him,  had  no  sooner 
left  Beaucliff  behind  him,  than  all  memory  of  the  visit 
faded  from  his  mind  saving  only  the  exquisite  beauty  of 
the  young  lady  in  whose  presence  he  had  passed  a  brief  half- 
hour. 


RESCUED.  85 


CHAPTEE  X. 

RESCUED. 

SHORTLY  after  luncheon,  Harold  announced  that  his 
yacht  was  in  readiness  for  the  proposed  outing ;  and  Guyon, 
anticipating  rare  sport  in  this  new  pleasure,  was  soon  pre 
pared  to  accompany  his  friend. 

"You  will  handle  her  yourself?"  he  asked,  as  they  ap 
proached  the  wharf  where  the  boat  lay,  beautiful  in  the 
shimmering  whiteness,  and  in  the  graceful  curves  of  her 
hull,  as  she  rose  and  dipped  to  the  gentle  swell  of  the 
ocean. 

"I  generally  do,"  he  replied. — "I  shall  not  require  your 
services  to-day,  Hopkins,"  he  continued,  addressing  the 
Skipper,  who  stood  awaiting  the  arrival  of  the  young 
gentlemen. 

"There's  just  a  lively  breath  o'  wind,  sir;  an'  a  few 
dark  clouds  out  in  the  east;  but  I  don't  guess  as  you'll 
have  any  trouble.  She's  in  first-rate  shape,  she  is,  sir." 

"Everything  in  good  order?  Crew  know  what  they  are 
about?"  asked  Harold. 

"Aye,  aye,  sir!     All  as  shipshape  as  kin  be." 

"We'll  take  a  run  outside,  maybe,  and  return  at  six 
o'clock.  Be  on  hand  at  that  time." 

"Aye,  aye,  sir!  I  wouldn't  venture  too  far  out,"  was 
the  last  warning. 

"He's  a  good  fellow,  on  the  whole;  but  a  trifle  worri 
some  for  real  sport,"  said  Harold  to  his  friend.  "We  can 
get  along  better  without  him." 


86  A  GENTLEMAN  BORN. 

"Hello,  you  fellows !"  he  cried  to  the  crew,  a  half-dozen 
stalwart-looking  men,  as  spick  and  span  as  the  craft  herself, 
in  their  white  duck  suits  and  caps.  "Hello !  off  with  the 
hawser,  unfurl  the  sail!  and  be  quick  about  it!" 

And,  taking  his  station  at  the  wheel,  Guyon  reclining  at 
his  side,  smoking  his  briar  in  a  languid  manner,  enjoying 
every  motion  of  the  boat  as  she  swiftly  cut  through  the 
water,  heading  out  to  sea  and  leaving  the  busy  little  city, 
with  its  background  of  rugged  cliffs,  in  the  distance. 

"Well,  how  do  you  like  it,  Guy  ?"  asked  Harold. 

"Like  it?  I  tell  you,  I  never  enjoyed  anything  so  well 
in  my  life." 

"Not  excepting  last  night  on  the  veranda,  eh,  Guv?" 

"Come,  now!  that' is  a  forbidden  subject,  you  know." 

"Is  it  ?  Pardon  me,  I  had  forgotten  that  it  was.  Here, 
just  hold  on  to  this  plagued  wheel  while  I  fill  my  pipe." 

"Can  I  do  it  all  right?" 

"There  is  nothing  to  do  but  keep  it  steady;  you  know 
all  about  steering,  I  should  judge." 

"Yes,  in  the  boat  crew  at  College ;  but  it  is  another  thing 
to  manage  a  yacht  out  here." 

"Same  principles,  only  a  little  more  muscle  is  required. 
Starboard,  now !  Keep  her  to  the  wind — Hang  the  matches ! 
I  must  go  below  for  a  minute — keep  her  head  just  that 
way,  that's  a  good  fellow."  , 

Although  a  little  nervous  at  first  from  the  very  novelty 
of  the  adventure,  Guyon's  quick  perception  taught  him  to 
control  the  steering  gear  so  well  that,  on  Harold's  return, 
he  declined  to  relinquish  his  position.  They  were  some 
distance  out  now,  and  the  Island  seemed  a  speck  on  the 
horizon,  while  before  them  lay  the  vast  expanse  of  ocean 
stretching  out  to  where  it  seemed  to  meet  the  deep  blue  of 
the  heavens. 

"You  are  feeling  like  another  man  already;  I  can  see 


RESCUED.  87 

it  in  the  healthy  color  of  your  cheeks,  and  in  the  light  of 
your  eye,  Guy,"  exclaimed  Harold,  throwing  himself  upon 
the  deck  in  a  careless  position  and  puffing  great  wreaths  of 
^moke  from  his  briar. 

"One  can  scarcely  be  otherwise  in  this  delicious  atmos 
phere,  and  with  just  this  additional  exercise  and  excite 
ment." 

"That  is  why  I  suggested  it.  Nothing  better  for  dis 
persing  the  cobwebs  from  the  mind  and  heart  than  a 
tussle  with  old  Ocean." 

"I  found  it  so  this  morning,"  replied  Guy  reflectively, 
wondering  even  as  he  spoke  if  some  of  that  mysterious 
spell  which  seemed  to  have  vanished,  had  not  returned  with 
his  visit  to  Beaucliff. 

"You  saw  Miss  Gordon  to-day,  did  you  not?" 

"Yes,  I  had  the  pleasure  of  a  short  interview." 

"How  did  she  impress  you?  Pardon  the  query,  Guy. 
I  told  you  that  I  wanted  to  follow  the  affair  as  far  as 
you  would  permit  me." 

"I  am  prepared  to  take  you  to  a  reasonable  limit,  al 
though  it  may  not  extend  as  far  as  yon  horizon.  Well, 
how  did  she  impress  me?" 

"That  was  my  question." 

"In  one  respect,  not  as  favorably  as  she  did  last  night. 
She  seemed  to  be  just  a  little  reserved ;  but,  I  tell  you,  her 
beauty  was  not  in  the  least  impaired  after  the. fatigue  of 
the  ball." 

"Of  course  not !  Hers  is  not  that  style ;  if  it  were,  she 
would  have  refused  to  see  you  this  morning." 

"Ah,  I  understand!" 

"What  are  you  looking  at  so  intently?" 

"Don't  you  see  that  white  speck  in  the  distance?" 

"I  have  my  glass  here  somewhere. — Here,  you  fellow!" 
he  cried  to  one  of  the  crew  who  was  lolling  on  the  deck 


88  A  GENTLEMAN  BORN. 

not  far  away,  "run  down  below  and  fetch  my  glass;  be 
quick  about  it !" 

"A  yacht,  as  sure  as  fate!"  he  exclaimed  when  he  had 
fixed  his  glass  upon  the  object  for  a  moment. 

"Barclay's,  and  Miss  Gordon  on  board,"  replied  Guyon ; 
Avhile  a  thrill  of  something  approaching  to  envy  touched 
his  nature. 

"Barclay  and  Miss  Gordon?  How  do  you  know  about 
it?" 

"She  told  me  this  morning  that  he  was  to  take  them  out 
to-day;  some  young  ladies  and  herself,  I  believe." 

"He  is  taking  them  out,  eh?  It's  lucky  he  has  Benson 
aboard  for  his  Skipper;  he  doesn't  know  as  much  about 
handling  a  boat  as  you  do,  and  you  are  doing  finely  for 
an  amateur/' 

"Thanks,  but  apropos  of  the  Skipper,  I  am  afraid  you 
are  mistaken.  Miss  Gordon  said  that  he  was  to  give  Ben 
son  a  holiday." 

"Did  she?  I  admire  his  nerve;  but  he's  a  damned 
idiot,  all  the  same!" 

"I  begs  yer  parding,  sir,"  said  a  sailor,  coming  up  at 
this  moment  and  touching  his  cap;  "but  we'se  thinkin' 
we  ought'er  tell  yer  as  them  clouds  is  gittin'  nasty  o'er 
yonder  nor'east;  don't  mean  no  good,  them  don't." 

"Do  you  tell  me  that  a  gale  is  springing  up  ?" 

"Look  for  yersel',  sir!" 

And  Harold,  without  the  assistance  of  his  glass,  could 
see  far  ahead  in  the  sky  dark  masses  of  clouds  marshal 
ling  their  lines  as  for  a  fray;  a  distance  off  they  seemed 
to  an  inexperienced  eye,  with  a  column-front  of  fleecy 
whiteness  on  which  the  sun,  glancing,  touched  with  a 
singular  mellow  light. 

"You  are  right,  Dobbins.— HeUo,  you  fellows,  unfurl 
the  topsail,  there!  Stretch  every  inch  of  canvas!  Give 


RESCUED.  89 

me  the  helm,  Guy;  we  must  show  our  heels  to  the  storm 
and  race  for  our  lives/' 

"Is  there  any  danger,  Hal?" 

"Can't  tell.  We  aren't  so  far  out  yet,  and  have  a 
pretty  good  chance;  but  these  darned  gusts  come  up  all 
of  a  sudden,  one  scarcely  sees  them  before  they  are  down 
on  top  of  you/' 

"And  Barclay's  yacht?" 

"Damn  Barclay,  and  his  imprudence!  She  is  in  our 
course;  we'll  head  for  her,  and  make  him  turn  in." 

"I  trust  that  we  may  be  able  to  persuade  him,"  ex 
claimed  Guyon,  now  thoroughly  alarmed,  as  he  realized 
the  peril  which  menaced  his  dear  one. 

On  sped  the  vessel,  her  fragile  frame  vibrating  with  the 
excess  of  motion  which  the  increase  of  canvas  had 
produced.  Already,  the  waves  were  rolling  higher 
than  usual,  and  the  spray  from  the  whitecaps  ever  and 
anon  swished  upon  the  deck.  Still,  with  all  their  speed, 
the  giant  host  above  was  gaining.  Vivid  flashes  showed 
his  opening  assault,  and  the  roar  of  his  artillery  awoke 
the  echoes  of  the  silent  deqp.  Onward  they  sped.  Now 
they  are  approaching  the  gay  pleasure  party  on  Barclay's 
yacht,  which  is  heading  out,  heedless  of  the  danger  that 
awaits  them.  Guyon  can  even  hear  the  merry  ring  of 
Miss  Gordon's  laugh  as  they  come  nearer. 

"Yacht  ahoy !"  shouted  Harold  through  his  megaphone. 

"Hello,  you  there !  Going  back  in  a  hurry,  aren't  you  ?" 
cried  Barclay. 

"Turn  back;  storm  ahead!"  Harold  cried. 

They  were  now  so  close  that  the  'phone  was  no  longer  re 
quired. 

"What's  the  row,  old  man?  We're  having  a  most  jolly 
time,  aren't  we,  girls?" 

"Don't  you  see  the  storm  ?     You're  riding  right  into  it." 


90  A  GENTLEMAN  BORN. 

"Nonsense,  it  won't  blow  this  way;  been  out  often  in 
weather  like  this;  it's  just  fine,  isn't  it,  girls?" 

"You'd  better  swing  'round  and  follow  us!"  exclaimed 
Guyon,  now  white  with  fear.  The  distance  separating  the 
two  yachts  was  increasing;  still  Barclay's  forged  ahead. 

"Yacht  ahoy!"  shouted  Harold,  again  grasping  his 
'phone. 

"Hello  yourself!" 

"I'll  race  you  to  the  Island  for  a  hundred!" 

"Done!"  and  Barclay's  boat  having  put  about,  the  race 
began. 

Now  the  headlands  of  the  coast  are  visible.  Now  the 
cliffs  loom  up  as  monster  spectres  in  the  increasing  gloom ; 
for  the  heavens  are  all  overcast,  and  a  growing  darkness 
veils  the  face  of  nature.  Another  stretch  and  the  racers 
will  win  against  the  storm. 

"Stand  by  your  sails,  there!"  cried  Harold  in  a  voice 
above  the  roar  of  the  wind  and  the  lashing  of  the  waves. 
"Furl,  make  all  snug  aloft!" 

"Topmast  gone !"  cried  a  seaman. 

"Look  out  for  the  mainmast,  Guy, — give  me  a  hand 
here!  Good  God,  what  is  the  matter  with  you?" 

"I'm  all  right.     Do  you  see  the  other  boat?" 

"She's  somewhere  near,  I  reckon.  God  grant  us  a  few 
moments  more !" 

The  shore  was  in  sight,  not  more  than  a  mile  away. 
Above  the  howling  of  the  storm,  came  a  flash  and  a  peal 
of  thur»der  louder  than  had  been  heard  before.  Almost 
mountain-high  ran  the  billows,  lashed  into  demoniacal 
fury;  then  a  lull,  broken  by  piercing,  heartrending 
shrieks. 

"She's  foundered !  Stand  to  your  yacht,  Hal — I'm  off 
to  the  rescue!"  and  before  his  friend  could  utter  a  word 
of  remonstrance,  Guyon  had  thrown  aside  his  shoes  and 


RESCUED.  91 

coat,  and  plunged  fearlessly  into  the  angry  waters.  In  the 
darkness,  he  could  perceive  nothing,  only  the  shapeless  mass 
of  Barclay's  yacht  bottom  side  up.  A  moment  later,  he 
saw  something  white  struggling  in  the  water,  and  dis 
appear  from  his  gaze.  Without  hesitation  he  dived, 
grasped  the  limp  form,  and  with  almost  superhuman  energy 
he  headed  for  the  shore. 

More  than  once  it  seemed  as  though  the  high  breakers 
would  overwhelm  him  and  his  burden;  still  he  fought  on, 
inwardly  thanking  God  for  his  strength  and  his  expert 
knowledge  of  swimming;  for  the  young  lady  whom  he 
supported  was  a  dead  weight,  unconscious  of  her  plight  and 
of  the  gallant  fight  that  was  being  made  to  save  her  life. 
None  too  soon,  a  breaker,  greater  in  force  and  size  than 
its  predecessors,  lifted  them  up,  and,  with  a  mighty  toss 
threw  them  upon  the  beach  at  some  distance  above  the 
city  limits.  Then,  for  the  first  time  did  Guyon,  not  even 
now  relinquishing  his  hold  upon  his  burden,  as  he  bore  her 
away  from  a  quickly  advancing  wave,  gaze  into  the  pallid 
countenance  and  recognize  Miss  Gordon — beautiful  still, 
but  white  as  chiseled  marble. 

"My  God,  she's  dead!"  he  exclaimed,  as  he  laid  her 
form  upon  the  ground,  chafed  her  hands  and  listened  for 
the  faintest  pulsation  of  her  heart.  "It  beats,  thank 
Heaven!  I've  saved  her.  Poor  girl,  little  kens  she  of 
her  rescuer.  Will  her  awakening  thought  be  of  me?  But 
I  must  not  leave  her  here ;"  and,  summoning  his  almost  ex 
hausted  strength,  he  lifted  her  in  his  arms  and  bore  her 
up  the  steep  narrow  pathway  to  Beaucliff,  stopping  now 
and  again  to  recover  breath,  and  almost  falling  into  the 
great  hall  when  he  reached  the  mansion. 

"Summon  Mrs.  Barrington — quickly!"  he  cried  to  the 
servants  who  stood  awe-stricken  at  the  door. 

<%'Here  I  am,  Mr.   McCarty;  has  anything  happened? 


92  A   GENTLEMAN  BORN. 

Oh,  my  poor  child!  Is  she  drowned?  What  has  oc 
curred  ?" 

"There  is  no  time  for  explanation,  Madam;  bid  a  ser 
vant  help  me  lay  her  on  the  couch.  A  little  brandy — send 
for  a  physician!"  then  Guyon  fell  fainting  to  the  floor 
beside  the  couch  on  which  he  had  helped  to  place  his  dear 
one.  His  wondrous  strength  and  great  vitality  had 
assisted  him  through  the  conflict  with  the  waves ;.  his 
love  had  given  him  false  energy  to  carry  his  burden  to 
her  home,  but,  his  task  completed,  nature  recoiled — he 
had  overtasked  his  powers. 

Mrs.  Barrington  and  Esther  were  unremitting  in  their 
attention,  first  to  the  young  lady,  who  still  resisted  all 
attempts  to  revive  her,  and  then  to  Guyon,  whose  nature 
more  quickly  responded.  He  was  just  recovering  con 
sciousness,  when  it  seemed  to  him  that  he  heard  her  voice. 
Was  it  a  dream?  Was  he  really  down  there  with  her 
alone  in  those  dark  waters,  dead,  yet  alive?  Were  their 
spirits  now  soaring  upward  united  forever?  Her  voice — 
listen  she  speaks: 

"Where  am  I !  Oh,  the  waters !  I'm  drowning — George, 
Mr.  Barclay,  save  me!" 

"You  are  saved,  deary;  you  are  home  here  with  me," 
he  heard  Mrs.  Barrington  say.  "Mr.  McCarty  rescued 
you." 

"He?" 


ON  THE  CLIFFS.  93 


CHAPTER  XL 

ON  THE  CLIFFS. 

A  WEEK  has  passed  since  Guyon  rescued  Mabel  Gordon 
from  a  watery  grave  receiving,  as  his  reward  only  the  ac 
knowledgment  that  her  thoughts  were  not  of  him  or  for 
him,  when,  awakening  from  her  unconscious  state,  she 
murmured  Barclay's  name. 

Many  a  young  man  under-  similar  circumstances  would 
have  banished  from  his  mind  the  very  image  of  love,  would 
have  sworn  to  himself  that  he  was  a  most  consummate 
idiot  to  harbor  an  affection  for  a  lady  to  whom  his  very 
presence  seemed  repugnant.  But  Guyon  was  not  of  this 
stamp.  His  boyish  nature  had  hitherto  received  impres 
sions  from  an  almost  endless  variety  of  objects,  which,  in 
his  checkered  career,  had  been  presented  to  his  vision. 
With  delicate  perception,  he  had  always  segregated  the 
coarse  and  vulgar  from  that  which  was  delicate  and  re 
fined;  and  now,  in  a  brief  period  of  acquaintance,  he  had 
imbibed  a  draught  of  intoxicating  delight  from  the  beauty 
of  Mabel  Gordon.  Hence,  it  was  impossible  for  him  to 
annihilate  the  sensations,  which,  remaining  without  the 
beacon  ray  of  hope  to  nourish  them,  bid  fair  in  the  end 
to  play  a  havoc  of  ruin  among  his  noblest  ideals  and  high 
est  purposes  of  life. 

During  this  time,  he  studiously  avoided  the  gay  whirl 
of  social  life  at  Newport,  for  which  he  was  frequently 
chided  by  his  youthful  mentor,  Harold;  and  his  melan 
cholia  was  made  a  subject  of  mirthful  jest  by  Mrs.  Bran- 


94  A   GENTLEMAN  BORN. 

don,  solely  with  the  object  of  rousing  him.  Still,  he 
heard  news  from  Beaucliff,  for  Harold  was  over  there 
often  now,  presumably  to  inquire  after  Mabel's  health,  but 
in  reality  to  pass  an  hour  or  two  in  the  society  of  Esther 
Barrington. 

Harold  was  now  all  enthusiasm  over  his  little  sweet 
heart,  as  he  called  her,  retailing  to  his  chum  of  an  even 
ing  her  wittiest  sayings  that  day,  and  her  wondrous 
anxiety  concerning  his  own  future  career. 

"Happy  fellow!"  thought  Guyon,  as  his  friend,  with 
a  word  or  two  of  encouragement,  left  him,  on  one  of  these 
occasions.  "He  is  to  be  envied  in  his  lot,  fortunate  in 
having  the  best  of  parents,  with  the  world  inviting  him 
to  any  of  its  highest  gifts,  fortunate  in  love !  whilst  I,  ah 
me!  I  must  assert  my  manhood.  To-morrow  I  shall 
take  up  the  conflict  anew,  throwing  off  this  poisonous 
atmosphere  which  suffocates  me,  and  going  forth  as  the 
unknown  knight  of  old,  in  quest  of  honor  and  a  name." 

It  was  about  evening  the  following  day,  when  Guyon 
having  set  out  on  his  accustomed  ramble  among  the  cliffs, 
strayed  nearer  to  Beaucliff  than  on  any  previous  occasion. 
Indeed,  he  was  not  conscious  of  his  proximity  to  the  house 
until,  climbing  a  steep  ascent,  he  found  himself  on  one  of 
the  narrow  paths  which  wound  up  from  the  shore,  and 
which  he  immediately  recognized  as  the  one  up  which 
he  had  labored  on  that  eventful  day,  bearing  the  uncon 
scious  Beauty  to  her  home. 

Almost  instinctively  he  turned  towards  the  ocean  and 
paused  as  a  scene  of  glory  burst  upon  his  vision.  It  was 
the  hour  of  sunset ;  and  far  out  at  sea,  at  the  very  borders 
of  the  horizon,  the  monarch  of  the  day  was  dipping,  half 
concealed,  then  a  quarter  gone,  now  totallv  eclipsed,  leav 
ing  behind  only  an  aftermath  of  radiant  splendor.  For, 
in  the  west,  where  some  dark  clouds  had  gathered,  the 


ON  THE  CLIFFS.  95 

crimson  and  orange  tints  were  seen,  while  towards  the 
east,  there  lingered  the  faintest  touch  of  roseate  hues. 

Standing  there,  entranced  by  the  wondrous  beauty, 
Guyon  forgot  all  else  of  the  world  about  him.  He  seemed 
to  live  in  another  sphere,  to  be  elevated  out  of  himself, 
so  to  speak.  And  as  he  gazed,  his  resolve  of  the  previous 
night — to  go  forth  and  fight  his  battles  manfully — seemed 
whispered  to  him,  and  he  formulated  it  with  renewed 
energy. 

Cruel  fate !  the  pity  of  it  that  it  should  be  so !  At  the 
very  moment  when  his  nobler  purposes  were  scarcely 
uttered,  there  came  to  his  ear  the  sound  of  voices  so  near 
to  him  that  he  could  distinctly  hear  the  words.  Turning, 
lie  looked  above  on  the  pathway, — no  human  form  was 
visible — but  below,  on  a  rustic  bridge  which  crossed  a 
cleft  in  the  rocks,  he  beheld  Barclay  and  Miss  Gordon, 
apparently  in  earnest  conversation.  Through  the  clear, 
translucent  atmosphere,  the  sounds  came  up  to  him  in  per 
fect  intonation.  Whether  he  willed  or  not,  he  must  hear 
them. 

"You  say  that  you  would  have  preferred  my  being  your 
rescuer  ?" 

"If  I  said  it,  I  may  have  meant  it,  and  I  may  not." 

"That  is  your  privilege;  but  if  you  really  felt  the  sen 
timent  which  the  words  conveyed  ?" 

"What  then?" 

"It  proves  that  you  care  for  me  just  a  little." 

"But  you  did  not  come  to  save  me !  You  left  me  to  the 
mercy  of  the  waves  and " 

"That  horrid  Irish  fellow!" 

"For  shame,  Mr.  Barclay;  I  did  not  say  that." 

"I  am  glad  that  you  did  not ;  for  I  owe  him  many  thanks 
for  preserving  your  precious  life." 

"Mr.  Barclay !" 


96  A  GENTLEMAN  BORN. 

"Yes,  Mabel,  I  must  say  it,  whether  you  care  to  hear 
it  or  not.  At  the  moment  when  you  disappeared  from  my 
sight  in  those  fearful  waters,  I  knew  that  I  loved  you.  I 
had  loved  you  long  ago ;  but  the  fear  of  losing  you  brought 
the  truth  home  to  me  in  a  new  light.  I  felt  as  though  the 
sun  of  my  existence  had  been  extinguished;  but  when  I 
found  you  again,  knew  that  you  were  alive  and  well,  my 
love,  re-lighted  by  hope,  burned  bright  and  ardent,  until 
now " 

"Do  you  really  love  me?"  she  asked. 

Guyon  heard  these  words  and  did  not  pause  to  hear  more. 
Better  would  it  have  been,  perhaps,  for  his  present  hap- 
pines  and  his  future  prospects  had  he  remained. 

Hurriedly  leaving  the  place,  he  proceeded  in  the  direc 
tion  of  the  Brandon  home.  His  mind  was  dazed,  and 
all  his  former  resolutions  annihilated ;  in  fact,  he  was 
fast  verging  to  the  point  where  he  would  care  little  what 
became  of  him.  In  this  state,  he  had  instinctive  tact  to 
avoid  the  pathway  which  must  have  led  him  to  Beaucliff. 
Striking  off  from  this,  and  clambering  up  the  rocks,  in 
heedless  haste,  he  struck  the  private  carriage  road  at  the 
same  time  that  a  drag,  drawn  by  a  pair  of  spirited  bays, 
approached  at  full  speed.  As  he  stood  there  for  an  instant 
in  the  uncertain  light  of  eventide,  his  tall,  manly  figure 
assuming  even  greater  proportions,  and  his  countenance 
white  with  the  pallor  of  death,  it  is  no  wonder  that  the 
animals,  startled  by  the  sudden  apparition,  shied  a  little 
but  the  driver  grasping  the  situation  at  a  glance,  held  them 
in  control ;  then  half  rising,  with  whip  in  hand,  he  brand 
ished  it  threateningly  at  Guyon. 

It  was  just  for  an  instant;  for  Perry  Barrington's  gaze 
fell  full  upon  the  face  of  the  man  he  had  wronged.  His  own 
cheek  blanched  in  turn,  and  he  fell  back  in  the  seat  with 
a  curse  which  did  not  escape  Guyon's  ear.  Then,  without 


ON  THE  CLIFFS,  9.7! 

another  word  of  recognition,  he  passed  on  up  the  road; 
while  the  young  man,  taking  the  insult  as  an  additional 
opprobrium  to  his  inferior  birth  and  condition,  paused  not. 
but  crossing  the  road,  hurried  his  pace  homeward. 

The  incident  itself,  while  it  affected  Guyon  in  so  much 
only  as  to  increase  the  pangs  gnawing  at  his  sensitive 
nature,  had  a  far  greater  effect  upon  Perry.  "Damn 
him!"  he  exclaimed,  as  he  drove  briskly  on?  "I  could 
have  sworn  it  was  Clarence's  ghost  rising  to  taunt  me. 
Was  it,  I  wonder?"  Then  glancing  back  and  not  seeing  a 

trace  of  the  cause  of  his  disquietude,  the  idea  grew  to 
a  conviction  that  it  was  indeed  an  apparition  he  had  seen. 
Might  it  not  be  an  omen  of  some  catastrophe  about  to  hap 
pen  to  him? 

But  Guyon,  unmindful  of  the  agitation  his  appearance 
had  produced,  reached  the  Brandon  home  with  a  small 
margin  of  time  at  his  disposal  in  which  to  dress  for  din 
ner. 

Much  would  he  have  preferred  remaining  in  his  room, 
braving  the  inquiries  which  his  absence  might  suggest; 
for  he  was  aware  that  his  deficient  appetite  and  haggard 
aspect  could  not  fail  to  arouse  the  curiosity  of  the  hostess 
during  the  meal — and  so  indeed  it  happened. 

"What  has  occurred  to  mar  your  peace  of  mind,  my  son  ?" 
exclaimed  the  good  lady,  as  course  after  course  was  re 
moved  from  before  him  untouched.  She  had  in  her  ma 
ternal  way,  appropriated  the  young  man  to  herself,  but  her 
solicitude,  generally  pleasing  to  him,  was  not  so  acceptable 
to-night. 

"I'm  out  of  sorts,  I  believe.  Somehow,  the  atmos 
phere  of  Newport  does  not  agree  with  me,"  he  replied. 

"I'm  not  going  to  credit  that,  I  assure  you,"  she 
persisted.  "I  never  saw  one  so  much  benefitted  by  the 
change  as  you  were,  the  first  week  after  your  arrival." 


98  A  GENTLEMAN  BORN. 

"That  may  be  true;  but  you  will  remember  that  up  to 
that  time  I  had  not  indulged  in  social  gayeties." 

"Keally,  I  cannot  discover  a  cause  for  your  illness  in 
your  round  of  social  engagements;  you  hove  been  a  model 
of  propriety,  going  out  but  seldom,  keeping  early  hours; 
in  fact,  had  you  seen  a  little  more  life  here,  and  not  given 
yourself  such  goody-goody  airs,  it  would  have  been  better 
for  you." 

"Katherine,  I  am  astonished  to  hear  you,  of  all  women, 
advocating  such  a  course  for  our  young  friend !"  exclaimed 
her  husband. 

"Oh,  you  know  to  what  I  have  reference,  Mr.  Brandon,  a 
little  more  innocent  dissipation — he  hasn't  been  anywhere 
since  the  yachting  incident,  has  he,  Harold?" 

"No,  I  can  vouch  for  it ;  but  the  fault  is  not  mine,"  re 
plied  Harold.  "However,  Mater,  Guy  is  old  enough  to 
know  what  is  best  for  him." 

"No  doubt  he  is;  but  you  should  have  urged  him  to  at 
tend  the  reception  at  the  club  gotten  up  especially  in  his 
honor  after  he  rescued  Mabel  Gordon." 

"I  assure  you,  I  was  in  no  mood  to  enjoy  it.  Harold 
fixed  it  all  up  for  me  on  that  occasion,"  said  Guyon. 

"I  will  not  attempt  to  do  the  same  again,  old  fellow !" 

"There  will  be  no  need  for  it,  Hal.  I  leave  Newport  to 
morrow." 

"To-morrow?  Indeed  you  shall  not!"  exclaimed  his 
hostess. 

"Are  you  weary  of  us  all  so  soon,  when  the  season  is 
only  opening,"  said  Mr.  Brandon.  "Now  I  had  almost 
forgotten  to  tell  you  that  I  met  my  old  friend,  Mr.  Bar- 
rington,  in  town  to-day,  and  he  asked  especially  after  you, 
Mr.  McCarty,  saying  that  Beaucliff  was  pining  for  a  visit 
from  you." 


ON  THE  CLIFFS.  99 

"I  saw  the  gentleman  myself  this  evening,"  remarked 
Guyon  quietly. 

"Then  there  was  no  need  of  conveying  the  invitation; 
doubtless  he  presented  it  personally." 

"Quite  forcibly,  I  should  judge,"  said  Guyon,  recalling 
the  horsewhipping  he  so  narrowly  escaped.  "No,"  he  con 
tinued,  "I  do  not  think  it  best  for  me  to  remain,  or  to 
accept  any  invitations  to  social  events  this  season.  I 
feel,  on  the  whole,  that  I  made  a  sad  mistake  coming  here, 
thrusting  myself  upon  your  set,  a  man  without  a  social 
standing  and  without  a  name !" 

"A  name !"  cried  Mrs.  Brandon. 

"He  means  any  other  but  an  Irish  name.  Guy  is  a  little 
sensitive  about  his  parents'  nationality,"  said  Harold,  com 
ing  quickly  into  the  breach. 

"Oh,  if  that  is  all,  your  education,  handsome  appearance, 
and  gentlemanly  manners  overcome  those  trifling  ob 
stacles,  I  am  sure,"  said  Mrs.  Brandon. 

"You  are  very  kind  to  say  so; — still ' 

"And  besides,  your  being  our  guest,  and  having  been 
received  at  Beaucliff  are  sufficient.  I  should  like  to  see 
the  person  who  would  dare  to  cut  you!"  exclaimed  the 
hostess  excitedly.  "I  am  afraid  you  are  too  sensitive,  Mr. 
McCarty." 

"It  may  be  so,"  replied  Guyon.  "And  if  being  sensi 
tive  is  a  misfortune  in  my  case,  I  can  only  live  to  regret  it ; 
meanwhile,  I  must  repeat  my  decision  that  I  leave  to 
morrow." 

A  glance  from  Harold,  caused  his  Mother  to  withhold 
a  rebuke  she  would  have  spoken;  but  she  unwittingly 
gave  Guyon  an  additional  pang  with  her  next  remark. 

"Isn't  it  absurb  what  everyone  is  talking  about,  Harry  ?" 

"Generally  speaking  it  is,"  replied  that  youth.    "When 


100  A   GENTLEMAN  BORN. 

everyone  talks,  Mater,  you  may  depend  upon  it  there's 
neither  much  sense  nor  solidity  to  their  remarks." 

"You  horrid  boy !  Of  course  I  did  not  mean  that.  I 
refer  to  the  engagement  of  Mabel  Gordon  to  George  Bar 
clay." 

"Now  that  is  absurd  in  the  extreme,"  said  Harold, 
glancing  quickly  at  Guyon,  and  noticing  that  he  moved 
restlessly  in  his  chair,  almost  as  a  criminal  obliged  to 
listen  to  his  condemnation. 

"There  is  nothing  in  it,  you  may  depend,"  remarked  Mr. 
Brandon.  "If  there  were,  Perry  would  surely  have  men 
tioned  the  fact  to  me.  He  was  speaking  of  Miss  Gordon 
and  of  her  fortunate  escape." 

"Still,  I  have  it  on  good  authority,"  persisted  the  chatty 
hostess. 

"Miss  Harcourt?"  ventured  Harold. 

"Well,  what  Miss  Harcourt  doesn't  know,  isn't  worth 
knowing;  besides,  she  is  intimately  acquainted  with  the 
Barclays  and  is  often  over  at  Beaucliff." 

"That  is  a  clincher !"  said  Harold.  "Did  the  fair  lady 
assert  with  like  confidence  that  the  wedding  was  to  take 
place  on  such  and  such  a  day?  That  she  was  to  be  maid 
of  honor,  and  that  the  trousseau  had  been  ordered  from 
Paris?" 

"Peace,  Harold!  You  are  as  incorrigible  as  ever.  I 
shall  have  to  order  you  from  the  table,  if  you  are  not 
better  behaved.  There,  I  believe  I  will  go  myself,  and 
leave  you  gentlemen  to  your  wine;"  and,  suiting  the  ac 
tion  to  the  word,  the  gay  hostess  rose  and  left  the  room. 

That  night  after  Guyon  had  retired  to  his  room  he  wrote 
to  the  old  contractor  stating  that  he  was  about  to  leave 
Newport,  and  asking  that  he  might  attend  to  any  details 
of  his  business  which  he  found  requiring  his  services  upon 
his  arrival  in  the  city.  Then  he  packed  his  trunk,  re- 


ON  THE  CLIFFS.  101 

fusing  tKe  assistance  of  Harold's  valet,  who  came  to 
perform  the  task;  and  with  one  last  look  at  Beaucliff  as 
it  stood  now  bathed  in  the  moonlight,  he  retired. 

Some  good  angel  nrnst  have  sent  him  pleasant  visions 
in  the  night;  for  he  smiled  in  his  slumbers,  which  came 
after  a  long  time  to  him.  Was  it  the  dream  of  his  child 
hood  in  the  tiny  house  on  Pearl  Street?  Or  was  it  the 
vision  of  his  heart's  love  perfected  in  the  end? 


A  GENTLEMAN  BORN. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

SHEEPSHEAD. 

"WELL,  Guy,  me  b'y,  so  ye're  tired  of  all  the  gewgaws 
of  sassiety  after  all?" 

"I've  had  a  fling  at  them,  and,  as  you  say,  they  wearied 
me  somewhat ;  but  why  in  the  world  did  you  come  home  ? 
There  was  no  reason  why  you  should." 

"So  I  see,  now  that  I've  got  here,  by  the  way  ye're  a 
runnin'  things;  however,  the  Missus  wus  bound  ye  wus 
sick,  and — ha,  ha !  I  will  say  it,  though  she  told  me  not 
ter — she  thought  ye  must  be  a  leetle  off,  just  a  trifle,  d'ye 
know,  fer  ter  lave  the  grate  folk  all  of  a  sudden,  an'  take 
a  pull  at  me  affairs  in  all  the  brilin'  hot  weather  we  do  be 
havin'  here." 

"Ha,  ha!  That  was  a  pretty  bad  joke  on  me!'  said 
Guyon  good-humoredly. 

"So,  she'd  have  nothin'  at  all  but  I  must  pack  mesel'  off 
an'  hunt  yees  up  afore  ye  got  in  the  hospital  or  worse,  she 
sed." 

"I  assure  you,  my  health  is  excellent,  Dad.  It's  my  sur 
plus  energy,  I  suppose,  that  causes  me  to  be  out  of  sorts 
unless  I  am  digging  away  at  something;  at  College,  I 
managed  to  use  it  up  in  study  and  in  the  various  athletic 
sports;  but  idleness  does  play  the  mischief  with  me." 

"It's  the  auld  savin7,  Guy,  me  lad,  the  Divil  finds  mis 
chief  enough  fer  idle  hands.  Faith,  I  can't  blame  ye 
much  fer  wantin'  ter  work;  but  whativer  made  ye  think 
o'  me  business,  now  ?" 


SHEEPSHEAD.  103 

"I  thought  that  in  this  way  I  might  repay  you  slightly 
for  your  long  continued  kindness  to  me  ever  since  you 
brought  me  in  from  the  streets." 

"Tut,  tut!  don't  be  mintionin'  it,  b'y." 

"Then,  a  more  interested  reason  was  that  I  didn't  know 
of  any  other  employment  which  I  could  attempt  at  the 
present  time." 

"An'  sure,  there  isn't  much  ter  see  ter  here,  at  all,  is  there 
now?  Burns,  me  clerk,  wus  doin'  fine  whin-  I  lift." 

"Yes,  he  is  all  right;  still,  I  have  found  a  few  details 
worth  looking  into  during  the  past  day  or  two." 

"Did  you,  now  ?"  exclaimed  the  old  contractor,  regarding 
his  protege  with  unfeigned  admiration.  "Faith,  I  think 
ye  has  a  grand  hid  f er  business ;  an'  if  ye  don't  mind,  I'll 
have  the  papers  drawn  up  ter-day  makin'  ye  me  partner ; 
thin  I  can  go  away  wid  an  aisy  mind  out'er  this  divilish 
hot  place  of  a  city." 

"Nothing  would  suit  me  better,  Dad,  if  it  is  agreeable 
to  you." 

"Faith,  we'll  make  short  work  of  it.  Jest  call  the  b'y 
an'  sind  'im  fer  me  lawyer,  Mr.  Smith." 

It  was  the  third  day  after  Guyon's  arrival  in  the  city. 
He  had  waited  for  a  reply  to  his  letter,  expecting  that  the 
old  contractor  would  wire  immediately.  Then,  becoming 
more  and  more  uneasy,  and  realizing  that  he  must  do 
something  or  yield  to  his  morbid  fancies,  he  arrived  at 
the  office  one  morning,  bright  and  early,  surprising  the 
people  there  by  declaring  his  identity,  and  his  intention 
of  managing  the  business  in  Mr.  McCarty's  absence.  And 
he  was,  in  fact,  sitting  at  his  desk  with  a  small  pile  of  cor 
respondence  before  him,  dictating  to  the  pretty  stenog 
rapher,  when  the  door  opened,  and  the  person  of  the  old 
contractor  stood  before  him,  mopping  his  glowing  counte 
nance  with  an  immense  red  bandanna. 


104  A  GENTLEMAN  BORN. 

The  lawyer  having  now  appeared  in  answer  to  the  sum 
mons,  Mr.  McCarty  lost  no  time  having  the  necessary 
documents  drawn  up  and  signed.  After  this,  he  proposed 
that  the  new  firm  give  the  office  a  holiday  in  honor  of  the 
event. 

"Phwat  d'ye  say  ter  a  run  over  ter  Sheepshead  ?  Maybe 
ye've  been  there  already,  I  dunno?"  asked  the  old  gentle 
man  when  they  were  standing  on  the  pavement  outside  the 
office. 

"Anything  you  say,  Dad,  it's  your  outing ;  no,  I  haven't 
been  to  the  races  yet." 

"I  don't  know  the  horses  they're  runnin',  so  we  won't 
play  too  high  on  'em;  but  the  sport's  good  fer  the  likes 
o'  yer — it's  bracin',  b'y ;  an'  it's  a  bit  of  a  bracer  ye  needs, 
I'm  thinkin',"  he  added,  as  he  looked  closely  at  Guyon. 
observing  his  colorless  cheeks  and  a  nervous,  troubled  ex 
pression  in  his  eyes. 

"No  doubt  I  do,  Dad.  At  any  rate,  I'm  glad  you  have 
come.  Why,  the  very  sight  of  you,  and  the  sound  of  your 
voice  make  me  feel  ever  so  much  better." 

"Does  it  now?  So  ye  ain't  well,  er  is  somethin*  a- 
troublin'  ye?  There — I'll  ax  ye  no  quistion,  an'  ye  can 
tell  me  no  lies  at  all." 

"I'll  tell  you  about  my  troubles  on  our  way  down,  Dad," 
replied  Guyon,  well-pleased  to  have  some  one  to  whom  he 
could  talk,  being  certain  that  the  kind-hearted  old  gentle 
man  would  appreciate  his  feelings. 

They  went  by  way  of  Bay  Ridge  to  enjoy  "a  bit  of  a 
sail,"  as  Mr.  McCarty  put  it;  then  by  rail  from  that 
place  to  the  race  track.  While  they  were  on  the  cars, 
Guyon  referred  to  the  subject  nearest  his  heart. 

"You  may  remember,  Dad,"  he  said,  "how  I  spoke  of  my 
parentage  the  night  before  I  went  to  Harvard." 


8HEEP8HEAD.  105 

"I  does  that;  an'  it's  that  same's  a-botherin'  ye,  poor 
b'y?" 

"The  very  same.  I  have  felt  it  before  many  times ;  but 
during  my  short  stay  at  Newport,  circumstances  arose 
which  made  me  desire  more  than  ever  to  find  out  some 
thing  regarding  my  origin,  if  it  be  at  all  possible." 

''Humph!"  grunted  the  old  contractor.  "Maybe  it 
was  thrown  up  ter  yer  face  that  ye  wusn't  as  good  es  thim- 
silves  ?" 

"Not  so  bad  as  that,  Dad.  They  are  not  so  rude  in 
polite  society." 

"Sassiety  be  damned !  say  I,"  exclaimed  the  old  gentle 
man,  becoming  highly  incensed.  "Ef  it  wusn't  fer  the 
Missus  settin'  her  heart  on  it,  I'd  tell  ye  ter  drop  it,  fer 
good  an'  all." 

"I'm  afraid  I  must  do  that,  at  least  for  the  present ;  but 
can  you  give  me  your  opinion  of  my  condition?" 

"Ef  ye  wants  it,  Guy,  me  b'y,  ye're  welcome  to't;  but 
it's  a  sad  thing  ter  say,  an'  I've  been  dreadin'  all  along 
since  ye  come  ter  us,  that  some  day  this  myst'ry  'bout  ye 
'ud  make  ye  es  miserable  es  the  Divil  himself  that  wus 
at  the  bottom  of  it  all." 

"Then  you  think  that  there  was  foul  play?  Do  you 
know  anything,  Dad  ?  In  Heaven's  name,  do  not  keep  me 
in  suspense !" 

"Faith,  it's  not  a  thing  I  know,  er  I'd  told  ye  long  ago, 
Guy  dear.  It's  only  me  surmises.  Whin  I  first  put  me 
eyes  on  ye  down  there  at  Mr.  Swithers,  sez  I  ter  meseP, 
an'  I  sed  the  same  ter  me  frind,  sez  I:  'He's  not  a  com 
mon  lad  o'  the  streets,  he  isn't;'  an*  old  Swithers,  he  didn't 
deny  it." 

"That  is  all?" 

"Ain't   that   enough   fer   ter   start   on?    Take   it  fer 


^  GENTLEMAN  BORN. 

granted  ye're  a  gintlemin's  son  born,  phwat  f olleys  ?  How 
did  ye  come  ter  where  I  found  ye  ?" 

"I  can  remember  nothing  further  back  than  the  time  I 
was  at  the  Italian  hovel,  going  out  with  the  other  children 
to  pick  up  refuse  on  the  dumps." 

"More's  the  pity !  Thin,  ef  ye  cud  find  that  Eyetalian 
woman  ye  lived  wid,  maybe  she  cud  till  ye  somethin',  ef 
she  would — they'd  do  annything  fer  money,  so  they  would, 
the  blasted  dagos." 

"Perhaps  you  are  right,"  replied  Guyon  musingly.  "I 
wonder  if  Biglin  could  help  me?" 

"Is  it  me  foreman  ye  mane?" 

"Yes,  he  knew  me  during  all  those  times.  We  worked 
•on  the  dumps  together." 

"I'll  have  'im  at  the  hotel  ter-night  an'  yees  can  talk  it 
over;  but  don't  take  it  too  much  to  heart,  that's  a  brave 
lad — renumber,  it's  a  long  lane  as  hasn't  a  turn;  an'  mind 
phwat  ye've  sed  yersel'  as  how  there  niver  wus  a  grate 
wrong  that  didn't  right  itself." 

"I  know  I  felt  that  way  once;  but  it  seems  to  me  now 
that  I  must  put  forth  one  more  effort — then,  if  I  fail, 
there  is  nothing  left." 

"Sure,  there's  iverything  lift,  an'  a  big  world  fer  ye 
ter  make  a  name  fer  yesel'.  But,  here  we  are  at  the  race 
track.  Mind,  ye  don't  play  too  high,  me  b'y!" 

With  this  warning,  given  in  a  waggish  tone  with  the  in 
tention  of  diverting  the  gloomy  trend  of  Guyon's  thoughts, 
they  left  the  cars,  and,  following  the  motely  throng  of 
men  and  women,  all  eager  and  excited,  jostling  each  other 
in  their  anxiety  to  reach  the  ticket-window,  they  entered 
the  race  track. 

Passing  inside  the  enclosure,  they  found  hundreds  of 
people  already  in  line  waiting  an  opportunity  to  purchase  a 
ticket.  Speculators  were  reaping  a  fair  harvest,  as  many 


8HEEPSHEAD.  107 

preferred  paying  an  extra  half-dollar  to  waiting  a  turn  at 
the  window.  To  one  familiar  with  the  scenes  at  this  famous 
resort,  there  is  always  some  unfailing  point  of  interest,  some 
thing  exhilarating  in  the  atmosphere  and  surroundings, 
from  the  moment  he  first  places  his  money  on  the  favor 
ite  "surely  the  winner,"  to  the  time  when  the  other  horse, 
Avhich  he  knew  "had  not  a  ghost  of  a  show,"  comes  in  a 
neck  ahead. 

All  this  was  so  much  a  novelty  to  Guyon  that  every 
other  thought  was  banished  from  his  mind ;  and  as  he  sat 
there  with  a  flush  of  excitement  on  his  cheeks,  his  eyes 
bright  and  alert,  the  old  contractor  figuratively  hugged 
himself  with  delight,  vowing  that  his  five  hundred  were 
well  spent,  even  if  he  lost,  by  giving  this  diversion  to  his 
favorite. 

"Here  they  come!"  was  the  shout  that  brought  the 
crowds  in  the  stands  to  their  feet.  The  favorites  were 
cheered  as  they  came  into  view.  Breakaway  after  break 
away  tried  everyone's  patience  and  strong  nerves  up  to  the 
highest  pitch.  At  last,  up  flew  the  gates,  down  went  the 
flag,  and  the  race  was  on. 

There  was  a  thunder  of  hoofs,  and  the  horses  whisked 
by  the  stand  in  a  whirl  of  dust  and  were  almost  lost  to 
view  as  they  made  the  turn.  Bounding  into  the  back- 
stretch,  the  field  came  clearly  into  view ;  two  game  animals 
were  running  like  a  harnessed  pair  in  front,  with  a  dozen 
others  close  behind. 

"See,  Dad !"  Guyon  exclaimed,  "they  are  nearing  the 
wire ;  now  my  horse  is  drawing  ahead ;  I  win,  sure !" 

"Don't  be  too  certain  of  that,  sir,"  remarked  a  sturdy 
veteran  at  his  side;  "you've  thrown  your  money  away 
this  time." 

"I  tell  you " 

"Ah,  Guy,  me  b'y,  ye've  lost,  sure!    Ye  wouldn't  bet 


108  A   GENTLEMAN  BORN. 

on  Shamrock  whin  I  told  ye.  It's  Ireland  that'll  whip  the 
world,  faith,  it  will." 

"You're  dead  sure,  this  time,  old  gent!"  exclaimed  the 
party  at  Guyon's  side. 

"Don't  be  too  sure  of  that!  See,  even  now  mine's 
ahead !" 

"And  wins!"  admitted  his  neighbor,  as  a  chestnut  colt, 
his  sides  foam-flecked  and  his  head  high  up  in  the  air, 
galloped  under  the  wire. 

"Take  it  fer  an  omen,"  whispered  the  old  contractor. 
"Ye'll  win  yersel'  yet,  Guy,  mark  my  words." 

"I  wish  that  I  had  just  a  little  grain  of  your  supersti 
tion  at  present,"  replied  Guyon,  "and  I  would  face  the 
future  hopefully." 


SEARCHING  FOR  EVIDENCE.  109 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

SEARCHING   FOR   EVIDENCE. 

THAT  evening,  Biglin,  the  foreman,  was  announced  at 
their  apartments  in  the  Hoffman  House. 

We  can  scarcely  recognize  in  the  smartly  dressed  young 
man,  who  stood  waiting  in  the  hotel  lobby,  taking  in  every 
thing  with  an  air  of  absolute  proprietorship,  our  friend 
Swipsie,  the  striker.  Only  his  ugly,  honest  counte 
nance,  and  his  shaggy,  red  hair,  partially  concealed  be 
neath  a  new  straw  hat,  betray  his  identity. 

"Wot  fell !"  he  was  saying  to  the  clerk,  "wot  fell !  Why 
doan  youse  make  dose  kids  do  a  turn  in  a  hurry,  an'  not 
keep  decent  blokes  awaitin'  all  night — see?" 

"Show  the  gentleman  to  Suite  506,"  said  the  sedate  in 
dividual  who  presided  at  the  desk,  without  deigning  to  look 
at  his  interlocutor. 

"Youse  sent  fer  me,  an'  I  chased  meseP  up  soon  es  I 
cud,"  said  Biglin,  standing  with  his  hat  in  his  hand,  look 
ing  with  a  puzzled  air,  first  at  Guyon,  and  then  at  the  old 
contractor. 

"Yis,  I  sint  fer  ye — take  a  seat,  will  ye  ?" 

"Youse  ain't  goin'  ter  gie  a  bloke  de  bounce,  is  youse?" 

"Nothing  is  further  from  our  minds,  Biglin;  we  want 
to  talk  with  you  about  an  important  matter." 

"I'm  wid  youse  in  anyting  s'long  es  youse  doan  gie  me 
de  go-by,  see?"  expostulated  Biglin,  as  he  settled  himself 
more  at  ease,  now  that  he  was  satisfied  that  his  position  was 
not  at  stake.  Still  he  was  at  a  loss  to  understand  what 


110  A  GENTLEMAN  BORN. 

service  he  could  render  the  firm  of  "McCarty  &  Son"  out 
side  of  the  regular  routine  of  work. 

"Ye  see,  Biglin,"  began  the  old  contractor,  taking  the 
bull  by  the  horns,  "me  son,  Guy,  here,  tills  me  that  ye  wus 
wid  'im  in  the  f urst  times  he  remimbers  annything  about ; 
an'  we  thought  maybe  ye  cud  help  'im  ter  find  out  some 
thing  about  the  Eyetalians  he  lived  wid." 

"Dat's  wot's  up,  is  it?  Wot  fell— cert'n'ly,  Guy  an' 
me  was  tergedder.  Didn't  wese  pick  rags  an'  coal  on  de 
dumps  ?" 

"I  have  not  forgotten  it,  Biglin.  You  were  just  plain 
Swipsie  then,  and  I  was — what  was  the  name  they  gave 
me?" 

"Aw,  some  Dago  name ;  Guynoni,  I  tink." 

"Guynoni,  it  surely  was.  That  is  one  point,  Dad,  that 
may  help  us  among  the  Italians." 

"Faith,  it  might  so,  I  dunno !" 

"Does  youse  want  ter  chase  roun'  Mott  Street,  an'  hunt 
up  de  ole  Dago  woman,  Rosa — wasn't  dat  wot  dey  called 
'er?" 

"Rosa  it  was,  and  none  other !  He  is  a  wonderful  chap, 
Dad ;  mark  how  he  remembers  the  names." 

"Aw,  dat's  not'in' !  I'se  often  chasin'  o'er  dose  tings 
in  me  mind,  see?  Fer  I  tinks  all  de  time  es  dere  was  a 
big  scrap  goin'  ter  be  'bout  Guy ;  an'  I  wants  ter  be  in  a'  de 
finish,  see?" 

"I  trust  that  the  finish  will  be  well,  Biglin,"  said  Guyon, 
as  he  grasped  his  old  comrade's  hand  with  genuine  warmth ; 
"and  indeed  I  feel  even  now  a  renewed  confidence  since 
I  have  secured  your  assistance." 

"Sure,  ye're  losin'  time  now,"  interposed  the  old  gentle 
man.  "Phwat  d'ye  say  we'd  best  do  furst,  Biglin  ?" 

"Wot  d'  I  soy  ?  Well,  I  soy  es  Guy  an'  me  jes'  puts  up  a 


SEARCHING  FOR  EVIDENCE.  Ill 

little  game  on  de  Dagos,  fer  one  ting.  S'pose  wese 
chases  oursel's  down  dere  an'  sees  wot's  goin'  on?" 

"I'm  ready,  Biglin.  It's  a  capital  night!  They  will 
all  be  out  in  the  street  enjoying  the  summer  breezes ;  and 
we  can  interview  them  without  the  annoyance  of  entering 
their  horrid  abodes." 

"Youse  ain't  'fraid  o'  dem  blokes,  Guy?  Not  ef  youse 
is  like  wot  youse  wus  oncet.  Hully  gee !  youse  cud  trump 
'ell  outer  any  two  o'  dem !" 

"So  I  could,"  replied  Guyon  laughing. 

"Faith,  an'  he  can  do  it  agin,  that  same,"  exclaimed  Mr. 
McCarty;  "but  Guy,  me  b'y,  take  yer  revolver,  hadn't  ye 
better,  now?" 

"De  shootin'  iron  ain't  so  worse  ef  youse  gits  in  a  bad 
scrap,"  remarked  Biglin. 

So  Guyon,  having  retired  to  his  room,  and  donned  an 
old  suit  of  clothes  whicli  he  had  ready,  soon  appeared ;  and 
the  two  comrades  of  the  storied  Cherry  Street,  and  of  the 
newsboys'  row,  sallied  forth  in  quest  of  some  clew  to 
Guyon's  parentage. 

It  was  not  very  late  in  the  evening  when  they  arrived  in 
Mott  Street.  Here,  many  changes  had  taken  place  since 
Guyon  first  made  his  appearance  in  the  arms  of  the 
Padrone  Pietro.  The  street,  now  more  thickly  populated 
with  the  Italians,  had  become,  in  every  sense  of  the  term, 
a  "little  Italy,"  Children  of  all  ages  thronged  the  side 
walks  or  revelled  at  the  hydrants  where  the  street-cleaning 
department  had  turned  on  the  water,  Avith  the  double  object 
of  cleansing  the  asphalt  pavement,  and  cooling  the  heated 
atmosphere.  How  they  enjoyed  themselves!  boys  and 
girls  alike,  not  caring  a  mite  for  the  wetting  when  they 
were  pushed  into  the  gushing  flood,  some  even  throwing 
themselves  down  in  the  water  and  wallowing  in  it  like  so 
many  pigs ;  while  their  elders  sat  in  the  doorways,  or  stood 


A  GENTLEMAN  BORN. 

in  groups  at  the  entrance  of  the  alleys,  laughing  at  the 
sport,  and  gabbling  away  in  the  Italian  tongue. 

"Does  yer  ketch  on  ter  any  o'  dese  places,  Guy?"  asked 
Biglin,  as  they  walked  along. 

"No,  I  haven't  the  slightest  remembrance  of  the  scenes 
here — so  many  things  have  happened  since,  you  know." 

"Youse  gie  'em  a  song  an'  dance  in  dere  lingo,  can 
ver?" 

"If  you  mean  address  them  in  their  mother  tongue,  I'm 
afraid  I  can't  do  that  either." 

"Mos'  o'  dese  here  Dagos  speaks  'merican  more  den  dey 
used  ter,  'cause  dey  chases  deresel's  roun'  wid  de  push  • 
carts,  or  maybe  de  organ.  I'll  gie  dis  ole  hag  'ere  a  smile 
an'  see  wot  she  sez." 

Suiting  the  action  to  the  word,  Biglin  approached  a 
group  of  old  women,  and  with  one  of  his  comical  grimaces, 
which  was  something  between  a  wink  and  a  smile,  or 
perhaps  a  combination  of  both,  inquired  if  they  had  lived 
there  long. 

"Yes-a,  we  live-a  long!" 

"Any  kid  cud  ketch  on  ter  dat/'  muttered  Biglin  aside. 

"Do  you  know  any  one  by  the  name  of  Eosa?"  asked 
Guyon. 

"Eosa,  yes-a,  signor,  me-a  name  Eosa — many-a  Eosa 
here." 

"T'ell  wid  Eosa!  Soy,  me  loidy,  youse  oughter  be  a 
duchess  er  someting  like  dat  where  youse  comes  from ! 
Youse  is  ded  easy,  youse  is,"  chimed  in  Biglin. 

"What-a  he  say-a?  Me-a  duchessa?  No-a,  no-a,  you-a 
say  me-a  look  so-a  grand-a,  what  you-a  call  ?" 

"He  says  you  are  a  fine  lady,"  interrupted  Guyon,  be 
coming  impatient,  and  aware  that  they  were  attracting  the 
attention  of  some  fierce-looking  Italians  not  far  away. 
"Now  tell  me,  do  you  know  of  a  woman  called  Eosa,  who 


SEARCHING  FOR  EVIDENCE.  113 

lived  here  some  years  ago,  and  had  many  children  in  her 
house,  who  picked  rags  on  the  dumps?" 

"Pick-a  zee  rag — Eosa.  Oh,  yes-a,  signer!  I  know-a, 
I  know !" 

"You  know,"  exclaimed  Guyon.  "Here  is  a  dollar — tell 
me  what  you  know  about  her/' 

The  woman  eagerly  grabbed  the  money;  and  when  it 
was  safe  in  her  possession,  gave  him  a  searching  look  to 
make  sure  that  he  was  not  a  detective.  Something  in  his 
countenance  reassured  her,  for  she  whispered: 

"Yes-a,  signer,  me-a  tell-a  zee  trut.  Eosa,  I  know. 
She-a  dead!"  Then,  looking  carefully  around,  she  whis 
pered  again  one  word,  "Mafia !" 

"Dead !"  exclaimed  Guyon.     "Are  you  sure  ?" 

"Ded?"  repeated  Biglin  with  an  incredulous  air. 

"Is  there  no  one  who  knows  anything  about  her?"  in 
quired  Guyon.  "Here  is  another  dollar,  tell  me — quick!" 

"Yes-a,  for  sure  there  ees-a ;  but  you-a  keep  way-a  from 
him.  He-a  vere  bad  man." 

"Wot  fell,  wot  fell!  Gie  us  de  name!"  exclaimed 
Biglin. 

"Hees  name,  Madonna !  I  fear  to-a  say  eet.  Set-a  ees 
Pietro." 

"That's  it,  Biglin.  I  remember  now,  he  used  to  visit 
the  house.  The  woman  tells  the  truth.  Let  us  get  away 
before  those  fellows  approach.  I  would  not  spoil  our  game 
by  a  fracas  at  this  early  stage." 

"Wot  youse  sez  goes,  Guy,  only  I'd  jes'  like  ter  have  a  bit 
of  a  scrap  wid  dose  ugly  Dagos,  jes'  fer  luck,  see?" 

"You'll  have  plenty  of  time  for  it  later." 

"All  right,  Guy;  s'pose  wese  takes  in  a  show  on  de 
Bow'ry,  dat  is,  ef  youse  ain't  like  de  res'  o'  dem  big  mugs 
wot  doan  go  in  fer  a  Bow'ry  show." 


A  GENTLEMAN  BORN. 

"I  don't  feel  much  like  it  to-night,  Biglin,  but  we'll  go 
if  you  wish.  Where  do  you  suggest?" 

"De  'lantic  Garding  ain't  so  worse;  dey  puts  up  a  de 
cent  show,  an'  dey  'as  good  beer  es  youse  can  git  any 
where." 

"We'll  go." 

As  Biglin  remarked,  the  Atlantic  Garden,  for  years  a 
landmark  on  the  Bowery,  was  a  resort  patronized  by  the 
respectable,  middle  class  of  Germans;  and  what  is  known 
as  the  "tough  element"  seldom  gained  admittance.  When 
Guyon  and  Biglin  entered,  they  found  the  place  well  filled 
with  men  and  women  sitting  at  small  round  tables, chatting 
together  over  their  beer,  which  was  often  eked  out  with  a 
dish  of  frankfurter  and  sauerkraut;  while  here  and  there, 
a  few  sailors  were  lounging,  making  their  presence  known 
by  a  boisterous  conversation.  At  one  side,  upon  a  stage, 
was  an  orchestra  of  female  performers,  and  this,  together 
with  a  light,  clean  vaudeville,  made  up  the  entertainment. 

It  was  not  without  interest  to  Guyon;  and  he  found 
himself  studying  the  strange  faces  about  him  as  he  sipped 
his  sherry,  while  Biglin  was  regaling  himself  to  the  ex 
tent  of  a  glass  of  beer  and  a  plate  of  frankfurters. 

"It's  a  Dutch  go,  Guy;  but  VG  mus'  feed  yer  face  wid 
suthin',"  he  said  by  way  of  apology,  poising  a  sausage  on 
his  fork.  "Dis  'ere  kyute  won't  never  bark  no  more,  he 
won't." 

"What  did  you  say  ?"  asked  Guyon. 

"Aw  nothing  I  was  jes'  talkin'  ter  de  sassage.  Say. 
Guy,  d'ye  ketch  on  ter  dat  gal  on  de  stage  dere,  doin'  a 
turn?" 

"I'm  looking  at  her;  what  of  it?" 

"D'ye  know  wot's  in  me  nut  dis  minit?" 

"A  great  deal,  Biglin;  a  vast  store  of  nonsense,  I'm 
sure." 


SEARCHING  FOR  EVIDENCE.  115 

"Well,  ef  dere  is,  it  won't  do  no  harm  ter  stay  dere, 
'slong  as  it  doan  fly  de  coop.  Es  I  wus  chinnin',  dis  'ere  gal 
makes  me  tink  o'  Dimples/' 

"Dimples?" 

"Cert',  Dimples." 

"Who's  Dimples?     A  young  lady  friend  of  yours?" 

"Now,  Guy,  doan  youse  remember  de  kid  wot  we  saved 
from  under  de  Bridge,  dat  night,  an'  took  ter  Mrs. 
O'Shaugnessy's?" 

"Of  course  I  do.  How  strange  that  I  should  have  for 
gotten  so  much  of  the  old  times !"  exclaimed  Guyon. 
"Dimples,  the  bright  little  baby  girl  that  I  was  so  fond  of, 
and  the  Christmas-tree  we  got  up  for  her,  and  the  cart 
Mr.  Swithers  made — it  all  comes  back  to  me  now.  Poor 
child,  she  must  have  grown  to  be  quite  a  lady  by  this  time." 

"Yer  bet,  she  is!" 

"What  do  you  know  about  her,  Biglin?  Tell  me;  I 
am  interested — perhaps  I  can  do  something  for  her  to  make 
up  for  my  past  neglect." 

"Naw  ye  can't,  needer." 

"What  do  you  mean,  is  she  dead?" 

"Not  as  I  knows  on.  Yer  see,  it  wus  dis  way.  Dimples, 
she  growd  up  es  purty  as  ever  yer'd  like  ter  set  your  peep 
ers  on.  My,  but  she  wus  a  hummer,  an'  she  knowd  it,  too, 
dat  wus  de  worst  of  't.  An'  she  led  de  ole  'ooman  a  hell 
of  a  life,  did  Dimples.  She  didn't  do  a  ting  but  be 
outen  de  streets  wid  de  boys,  an'  dey  wus  scrappin'  all  de 
time  'bout  her.  Den,  de  ole  'ooman  died,  an'  de  las'  wus 
heard  o'  Dimples,  she'd  cum  up  town  an'  wus  in  one  o'  dose 
swell  teayters." 

"Great  Heaven !"  exclaimed  Guyon,  "here  I  have  been 
tearing  my  heart  out  with  my  own  troubles,  when  I  might 
have  done  something  to  save  this  little  one  whom  Provi- 


116  A  GENTLEMAN  BORN, 

dence  so  mysteriously  placed  in  our  hands.  Why  didn't 
you  tell  me  of  this  before,  Biglin?" 

"Tell  youse?  I  didn't  tink  yer'd  care  ter  hear  'bout  it, 
see  ?  and  maybe,  she  ain't  so  worse  a'ter  all.  Does  all  dose 
gals  in  de  teayters  be  bad?" 

"No,  of  course  not;  but  it  isn't  what  I  should  picture 
Dimples  doing,  as  I  remember  her  now  with  her  sweet, 
innocent  face,  and  baby  ways." 

"She  hadn't  many  o'  her  baby  ways  when  de  ole  'ooman 
died,  I  guess ; — my,  she  wus  a  peach !" 

"A  what?" 

"JesJ  a  peach,  dat's  all." 

"Poor  Dimples !"  said  Guyon,  half  aloud ;  "her  fate  was 
similar  to  my  own,  abandoned  by  those  who  should  have 
cared  for  her,  her  parents  doubtless  of  excellent  birth, — 
but  how  different  has  been  her  lot  from  mine !  I  can  bat 
tle  through  somehow,  but  a  young  girl — a  beautiful  one — 
there's  the  danger !  I  must  try  to  find  her,  Biglin." 

"Maybe  yer'll  run  across  her  some  time,  ef  youse  goes 
to  de  teayters;  but  youse  ain't  goin'  ter  gie  up  yer  own 
game,  Guy  ?"  said  Biglin  with  an  air  of  disappointment. 

"No,  Biglin;  but  I  don't  see  what  there  is  to  be  done. 
We  have  learned  all  that  we  could  in  Mott  Street.  You 
heard  the  Italian  women  say  that  Eosa  is  dead.  All  we 
know  is  that  the  man  Pietro  is  living — what  can  we  ob 
tain  from  that  intelligence?  Doubtless,  he  doesn't  know 
anything  about  me;  and  if  he  does,  in  all  probability  his 
lips  are  sealed." 

"Doan  be  ded  sure  o'  dat,  Guyon.  Ef  ye'll  gie  me  de 
word,  I'll  chase  a'ter  'im  when  I  ain't  got  notin'  ter  do; 
an'  ef  he's  livin'  an'  knows  anyting  'bout  youse,  I'll  trump 
'ell  out  o'  ?im  till  I  gits  it." 

"Don't  get  yourself  into  trouble  in  my  service,  Biglin." 


SEARCHING  FOR  EVIDENCE.  11? 

"Trubble's  wot  I'm  lookin'  fer.  Dere  ain't  no  fun^m 
nothin'  else,  Guy!  'Sides,  ef  youse  lemme  say  so,  youse 
wus  me  brudder  oncet  an'  allus,  an',  damn  it,  I'll  be  in  at 
de  finish!" 


A  GENTLEMAN  BORN. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

CLUB  LIFE. 

WHILST  Guyon  was  busily  occupied  with  his  new  duties, 
as  a  partner  of  the  firm  of  McCarty  &  Son,  the  summer 
days  passed  swiftly  by.  Sometimes  it  was  a  subject  of 
wonder  to  himself  that  he  could  come  down  to  the 
routine  of  practical  business  life,  forgetting  for  the  mo 
ment  his  more  serious  troubles.  Still,  there  were 
moments  when  even  this  new  hobby  failed  to  divert  his 
attention;  then  it  was  that  he  sought  relief  at  the  races, 
remembering  his  first  visit  in  company  with  the  old  gen 
tleman,  and  the  exhilarating  effect  it  had  produced  upon 
his  mind  and  spirits. 

But,  as  the  antidote  for  a  grievous  illness  when  taken 
in  homeopathic  doses  will  prove  beneficial,  and  the  same, 
taken  in  large  quantities,  will  invite  death,  so  it  happened 
that  Guyon,  after  a  time,  became  so  infatuated  with  the 
races,  that  before  a  month  had  elapsed,  he  was  a  regular 
habitue.  Fortune,  too,  conspired  to  his  ruin  in  this 
direction;  for  at  first  he  had  a  long  run  of  luck;  then, 
suddenly,  it  changed;  but  it  was  not  in  his  composition 
to  stop  before  a  little  freak  of  the  tricksy  dame.  He  con 
tinued  losing  until  his  allowance  was  overdrawn,  and  he 
was  forced  to  borrow. 

About  this  time,  the  old  contractor  and  his  wife  returned, 
and  the  house  on  Seventy-second  Street  was  reopened. 
Mr.  McCarty  learned  from  his  clerk,  Burns,  of  Guyon's 
frequent  absence  from  the  office,  but  attributing  it  to  his 
uneasy  state  of  mind,  and  perhaps  to  his  being  on  the 


CLUB  LIFE.  119 

lookout  for  the  missing  clew  to  his  parentage,  he  said  noth 
ing- 
One  evening  Guyon  came  in  later  than  usual.  His  ex 
traordinarily  low-spirited  condition,  added  to  his  haggard 
appearance,  touched  the  old  gentleman's  heart.  Guyon 
avoided  all  attempts  at  conversation,  and  was  about  to 
retire  to  his  room,  when  his  foster-father  addressed  him: 
"Guy,  me  b'y,  come  in  me  din,  an'  let's  have  a  bit  of  a 
talk.  We  haven't  seed  much  o'  each  other  since  the  Missus 
came  home/' 

"No,  Dad,  I've  been  away  a  good  deal,  and — and — I 
don't  feel  in  the  humor  for  talking  to-night." 

"Don't  ye,  now  ?  That's  not  like  me  son,  Guy,  as  niver 
wus  too  tired  ter  have  a  bit  of  a  chat  wid  'Dad'  in  de 
din." 

"There's  no  resisting  you;  I'll  come." 

"Sure,  I  knew  ye  would.  Now,  phwat's  turned  up  at 
all,  I  dunno,  ter  make  ye  so  out  o'  sorts?"  exclaimed  the 
old  gentleman,  as  he  filled  his  little  black  "dudeen,"  and, 
seating  himself,  invited  Guyon  to  a  chair  at  his  side. 

"You  remember  the  day  we  went  to  the  races?"  Guyon 
began,  bracing  himself  for  the  ordeal. 

"The  races?  Faith,  I  do;  an'  it  wus  a  fine  move  on 
me  part,  an'  I've  thought  that  same  manny's  the  time. 
Sure,  it  did  ye  good,  didn't  it?" 

"That  was  the  curse  of  it.  The  first  effect  was  good. 
There  was  something  in  the  whole  atmosphere  of  the  track 
which  I  found  more  beneficial  than  strict  application  to 
business." 

"Ye  wint  there  agin,  thin,  phwile  I  wus  away?" 

"Again !  I  wish  it  was  only  once.  I  have  attended  the 
races  almost  every  day!" 

"Have  ye  now?"  replied  the  old  gentleman,  looking  at 


120  A  GENTLEMAN  BORN. 

Guyon  with  a  half -amused,  half-quizzical  air;  "an'  lost, 
did  ye?" 

"Yes,  I  lost.  I  overdrew  the  handsome  allowance  you 
placed  at  my  disposal,  and  I  am  in  debt/' 

"Much?" 

"A  few  thousands." 

"Is  that  all,  Guy?" 

"That's  all,  Dad ;  now  ain't  you  sorry  that  you  behaved 
so  generously  with  me?" 

"Not  a  bit,  me  lad,"  exclaimed  Mr.  McCarty,  rising  from 
his  chair,  and  taking  both  of  the  young  man's  hands  in 
his  own.  "Not  a  bit.  I'm  more  glad  than  sorry.  Phwat's 
a  thousand  more  or  less  ?  Ye've  had  yer  fling,  ye  got  a  bit 
o'  fun  out  of  it,  an'  I'm  only  sorry  ye  tuck  it  so  much  ter 
heart;  that  spiles  it  all." 

"Don't  say  any  more,  Dad,  I  can't  listen  to  it.  You 
overwhelm  me  when  I  expected  at  least  a  word  of  re 
proach." 

"Tut,  tut,  b'y!  Niver  a  harsh  word  has  I  gied  ye,  an' 
I  won't  neither;  only  a  little  word  o'  advice.  Ye  see,  I'm 
a  bit  older  nor  ye,  Guy;  an'  I've  been  tro'  it  all  mesel'; 
only  I  niver  bid  so  high  as  ter  lose  big  money,  an'  I 
knew  whin  I'd  enuf  of  it.  Ye'll  take  the  hint,  now." 

"I  understand  what  you  mean,  Dad.  Yes,  I  have  had 
enough  of  it,  more  than  enough ;  and  I  give  you  my  word 
I  shall  never  be  seen  at  the  races  again." 

"Don't  say  niver!  It  won't  do  ye  anny  harm  oncet  in 
a  phwile." 

"I  think  it  is  best  for  me  to  avoid  them  altogether,  Dad. 
I  intend  to  apply  myself  to  business  now." 

"Sure,  ye  must  have  a  bit  o'  fun — 'all  work  an'  no  play,' 
ye  know.  Hain't  ye  run  across  yer  frind,  that  College 
chap  that  had  ye  at  his  home  in  Newport,  I  dunno  ?" 


CLUB  LIFE. 

"I  have  not,  although  he  must  be  in  the  city,  I  think. 
Why  do  you  ask,  Dad  ?" 

''Well,  I  dunno.  Faith,  he's  a  good,  fine  lad,  I'm 
thinkin',  an'  he  might  be  takin'  ye  ter  his  club  er  some 
place  phwere  ye'd  enjy  yerseP." 

"I  have  no  desire  to  meet  those  people  whom  I  saw  at 
Newport.  You  remember  our  conversation  about  my 
sojourn  there/' 

"Yis,  but  I  can't  see  anny  thing  ter  kape  ye  away.  Thin, 
if  I  must  say  it,  the  Missus  is  axin  me  ivery  day  ef  ye's 
goin'  ter  mix  in  wid  'em  this  Fall." 

"Oh,  I  see  how  it  is,  Dad ;  and  if  you  both  desire  it,  my 
own  inclination  shall  be  subservient  to  your  wishes." 

"Fer  this  oncet,  Guy,  I  think  ye  should.  Sure,  no  good 
'11  cum  ter  a  young  lad  like  ye  a  mopin'  'round  alone,  er 
shut  up  wid  ole  grannies  like  me  an'  the  Missus;  only 
she'd  not  like  ter  be  called  a  granny,  would  she,  now?" 

Judging  it  to  be  a  duty  incumbent  upon  him,  although 
in  his  heart  he  disliked  the  idea  of  mingling  in  Harold's 
set,  fearing  lest  he  might  be  coldly  received,  or  openly  ig 
nored  by  some  on  account  of  his  birth,  Guyon  had  resolved 
to  visit  his  College  chum  the  next  evening.  He  was  then, 
more  than  surprised  when  he  met  that  individual  on 
Broadway  as  he  was  strolling  home  from  office. 

"Hello,  Guy,  old  fellow !     Where  did  you  drop  from?" 

"I  didn't  know  that  I  had  dropped  physically,  although  I 
may  have  dropped  in  avoirdupois  since  I  saw  you  last." 

"Indeed,  you  look  it.  Do  you  know,  I  never  saw  any 
one  more  changed  in  my  life !  I  had  to  look  at  you  twice 
before  I  recognized  you." 

"Did  you  ?    That  speaks  well  for  'Auld  Lang  Syne/  " 

"Come,  now,  you  are  lively  enough  to  conjure  up  a 
taunt.  Take  it  back,  'Guy,  or  we'll  have  a  tussle  here  on 
the  street.  But  seriously, — come  along,  we  can  chat  as 


A   GENTLEMAN  BORN. 

we  walk.  Neither  of  us  has  any  particular  business  at 
this  hour." 

"No,  my  business  is  completed  for  the  day." 

"Business?  You  don't  tell  me  that  you  are  actually 
working  ?" 

"What  would  you  have  me  do?  Were  I  without  an 
occupation,  I  would  die/' 

"But  your  education,  does  that  count  for  nothing? 
Aren't  the  professions  open  to  you?" 

"Yes,  but  I'm  young  yet — there's  plenty  of  time  for 
all  that." 

"Plenty  of  time  for  nothing!"  exclaimed  Harold  in  a 
burst  of  friendly  indignation.  "I  tell  you,  Guy,  you  aro 
wasting  your  energy,  wasting  your  time  and  strength — 
you  are  a  wreck  of  your  grand  old  self!  No,  I  will  hear 
no  expostulations.  Listen  to  me;  I  have  been  thinking 
lots  about  you  ever  since  you  left  us  so  suddenly  at  New 
port;  and  I  came  to  the  conclusion  that  you  must 
mingle  with  our  set,  whether  you  willed  or  not.  Acting 
upon  these  premises,  I  lost  no  time,  at  the  first  meeting 
of  my  club,  in  proposing  you  for  membership." 

"A  most  foolish  move  on  your  part,  Hal;  you  might 
at  least  have  spared  me  the  shame  of  being  turned  down." 

"Turned  down?  The  Devil  you  say!  Turn  down  ,\ 
man  whom  I  propose?  Not  by  a  jug-full !  Even  Barclay 
and  his  set  are  anxious  to  have  you." 

"Barclay?" 

"Yes,  Barclay;  and  now  that  you  are  a  full-fledged 
member  of  the Club,  with  only  a  few  necessary  prelimi 
naries  to  settle,  which  we  will  attend  to  to-night,  I  want 
to  sav  a  few  words  about  the  men." 

"Fire  away,  old  fellow!  I'm  not  unmindful  of  how 
well  you  have  filled  the  office  of  mentor  on  former  occa 
sions." 


CLUB  LIFE.  133 

"How  badly,  you  mean ;  but  I  trust  that  my  advice  will 
be  better  heeded  in  this  instance." 

"The  past  lies  buried  at  Newport." 

"Don't  raise  the  ghost,  Guy;  now,  as  I  was  saying, 
about  the  Club,  you  must  know  that  in  every  institution  of 
this  kind,  there  are  all  sorts  of  fellows, — morally,  I  mean. 
We  don't  inquire  particularly  into  that  point  when  a  man 
is  proposed.  My  experience  with  some  of  them  is  that  they 
do  you  no  good.  They  are,  in  fact,  a  fast  set,  going  in  for 
the  races,  gambling,  women  and  the  like.  You  will  meet 
them;  there  is  no  occasion  for  openly  cutting  them;  but 
don't  be  on  too  familiar  terms  with  any  of  them." 

"You  think  that  I  am  not  capable  of  taking  care  of  my 
self?"  replied  Guyon,  a  little  piqued. 

"There  you  go!  my  friend  of  too  finely  wrought  sen 
sibilities.  Of  course  you  are  able  to  take  care  of  your 
self  ;  only,  you  don't  always  act  as  though  you  were." 

"I  assure  you  that  I  will  give  heed  to  your  caution  in 
this  particular,  Hal.  I  have  not  forgotten  my  past  ex 
periences." 

"Nor  I  either.  Do  you  know,  Guy,  you  are  often  an 
enigma  to  me?  So  true  and  firm  of  purpose  at  times, 
one  might  almost  consider  you  a  Gibraltar  against  out 
side  impressions — presto!  the  next  moment  you  display 
a  weakness  that  is,  to  say  the  least,  appalling." 

"It  is  my  misfortune,  Hal;  a  freak  of  heredity,  I  pre 
sume.  I  can  account  for  it  in  no  other  way;  and  being 
such  as  I  am,  it  is  good  of  you  to  act  as  my  mentor.  Con 
tinue,  if  you  don't  mind,  even  though  I  declare  myself  tha 
basest  inerrate." 

"That  I  shall,  old  fellow.  Now,  you  will  be  at  the  Club 
to-night,  won't  you  ?" 

"Without  fail." 

About  nine    o'clock,    Guyon    sauntered  into  the  


A  GENTLEMAN  BORN. 

Club.  It  was  one  of  the  latest  organized,  and  hence  the 
most  elaborately  furnished  of  its  kind  in  the  city,  patron 
ized  by  the  youthful  scions  of  the  best  families.  Once  in 
side  the  imposing  entrance,  one  is  impressed  by  the  solidity 
and  richness  of  the  place.  A  great  hall,  the  floor  of  which 
is  laid  in  mosaics  of  delicate  design,  columns  of  rare  old 
Italian  marble,  and  broad  stairways  with  balustrades  of 
the  same  costly  material;  while  the  reception-room, 
library,  reading-room  and  art-gallery  present  a  contrast 
in  the  warmth  of  decoration.  Incandescent  bulbs  in  mas 
sive,  chandeliers  furnish  abundant  light,  giving  a  tinge 
of  color  to  the  marbles  and  to  the  decorations  of  the 
various  apartments. 

Harold  Brandon  was  on  hand  to  greet  Guyon,  and  con 
ducted  him  at  once  to  the  clerk's  office,  where  the  finan 
cial  part  of  his  membership  was  quickly  disposed  of; 
thence  to  the  library  where  he  was  introduced  to  the  Presi 
dent,  the  members  of  the  Board  of  Directors,  and  other 
prominent  men. 

"We  trust  that  you  will  feel  perfectly  at  home  here, 
Mr.  McCarty,"  said  Mr.  Percival,  the  President,  a  noted 
young  member  of  the  bar. 

"I  do  not  see  how  it  can  be  otherwise  amid  such  mag 
nificent  surroundings,"  Guyon  replied. 

"Yes,  it  is  tolerably  comfortable.  Bather  an  agreeable 
change  from  our  old  quarters  on  Madison  Avenue,  eh, 
Brandon?" 

"I  should  say  so !  Still,  we  had  some  good  old  times 
down  there." 

"Have  you  taken  Mr.  McCarty  over  the  place?  Few  of 
the  men  have  come  in  yet,  so  you  will  have  time  to  inspect 
the  various  establishments,  and  our  friend  must  see  his 
own  apartment." 


CLUB  LIFE.  125 

'Am  I  to  have  a  room  for  my  own  use?"  asked  Guyon, 
when  Harold  led  the  way  to  the  elevator. 

"Certainly ;  each  member  is  entitled  to  that.  Of  course 
you  don't  have  to  live  here  unless  you  feel  so  inclined; 
but  it's  convenient  sometimes,  you  know." 

Up  they  went  to  the  very  top  of  the  lofty  edifice. 

"That  is  the  kitchen  with  its  various  appointments  to 
the  right;  you  don't  care  about  looking  in  there,  I  sup 
pose,"  said  Harold,  as  they  stepped  out  of  the  elevator. 

"Just  a  look.  It  is  perfect,  I  should  say;  but  I  don't 
know  much  about  the  culinary  appurtenances." 

"On  the  floor  below  are  the  private  rooms.  We'll  look 
into  your  apartment  to  see  if  you  are  satisfied  with  it." 

"Couldn't  be  better!"  exclaimed  Guyon,  as  he  peeped 
into  a  cozy  bachelor  den,  replete  with  everything  sug 
gestive  of  creature  comfort,  from  the  brass  bedstead  with 
delicate  hangings,  to  the  substantial  dresser,  the  open  fire 
place  and  the  easy  chairs.  "I  can  almost  resolve  to  take 
up  my  abode  here  at  once,"  he  added. 

"Not  so  fast,  Guy !  This  is  mine  adjoining.  You  may 
remark  the  door  connecting  the  two  rooms;  it's  rather 
social,  I  fancy." 

"Excellent !  How  thoughtful  of  you  to  select  it  for  me, 
Hal." 

"Was  it?  Well,  I  wouldn't  have  any  one  else  there, 
so  you  may  take  that  idea  as  you  wish." 

"A  most  delicate  compliment,  old  fellow." 

"Shall  we  inspect  the  dining-rooms  on  the  next  floor?" 

"Of  course;  I  want  to  see  everything." 

"Here  is  one  closed.  What  is  this  for,  Owens?"  cried 
Harold,  addressing  the  Superintendent  of  the  Club,  who 
was  passing  at  that  moment. 

"It's  closed  on  account  of  fixin'  for  a  little  supper  Mr, 


126  A  GENTLEMAN  BORN. 

Barclay  is  goin'  to  give  to  his  friends  to-night,  sir,"  re 
plied  Owens. 

"Barclay  giving  a  supper  to-night?  That's  strange;  I 
haven't  heard  of  it — Some  of  his  set,  I  suppose." 

"Has  Barclay  come  yet?"  asked  Guy  on,  with  just  a  little 
nervous  tremor  in  his  voice.  He  dreaded  the  meeting, 
remembering  where  he  had  last  heard  him  speaking,  and 
fearing  lest  he  should  show  some  resentment  towards  the 
man  who  had  come  between  him  and  his  love. 

"Listen!  If  I'm  not  mistaken,  that's  his  laugh  in  the 
billiard-room  below.  Do  you  wish  to  join  the  crowd 
there?" 

"What  other  rooms  remain  which  we  have  not  in 
spected?"  asked  Guyon,  anxious  to  defer  the  meeting  as 
long  as  possible. 

"Oh,  there's  the  directors'  room  yonder,  and  here  is  a 
cozy  little  cafe  and  other  private  dining-rooms  adjoin  it; 
then,  on  the  floor  below,  are  the  Milliard-room,  the  gen 
eral  dining-room,  and  more  cafes." 

will  go  down  now,  if  you  wish." 


A  STAG  SUPPER.  JL27 


CHAPTEK  XV. 

A  STAG  SUPPEK. 

As  they  entered  the  billiard-room,  they  found  most  of 
the  tables  occupied  with  lively  groups  of  young  chaps, 
some  really  intent  upon  the  game,  while  others  handled 
their  cues  with  a  careless  grace,  more  for  the  amusement 
and  pastime,  than  for  any  more  serious  purpose. 

"Hello,  Brandon,  we're  waiting  for  you!"  cried  Bar 
clay,  advancing  from  the  other  end  of  the  room. 

"You  have  met  Mr.  McCarty,  have  you  not?"  asked 
Harold. 

"By  Jove,  of  course — at  the  Barrington  ball  last  sum 
mer!  And  heard  so  much  of  you  since!  I'm  delighted 
to  renew  your  acquaintance,  Mr.  McCarty,"  he  continued, 
grasping  the  hand  which  Guyon  reluctantly  placed  in 
his. 

"It  is  good  of  you  to  say  all  that,"  murmured  Guyon. 
"It  is  owing  to  Harold's  persuasion  that  I  have  come 
here." 

"I'm  deuced  glad  he's  brought  you  out.  We  want  more 
fine,  brave  fellows  like  you  here.  I  haven't  seen  you  since 
that  accident  at  Newport." 

"Please  don't  mention  it,"  replied  Guyon  a  little 
huskily. 

"Oh,  I  understand;  you're  too  modest,  you  are.  What 
do  you  say  to  a  game?  You  play,  I  suppose?" 

"Yes,  a  little." 

"Come,  then;  here  are  some  fellows  of  the  right  sort. 
I  want  you  to  know  them." 


128  A  GENTLEMAN  BORN. 

"Wrong  sort!  I  should  say,"  muttered  Harold. 

"Mr.  Bracer,  and  Mr.  Norwood,  this  is  our  latest  ac 
quisition  to  the  Club,  Mr.  Guyon  McCarty,"  said  Barclay, 
introducing  two  young  chappies  of  his  own  stamp,  well- 
dressed,  and  of  approved  manners;  but  upon  whose  fea 
tures  the  lines  of  licentiousness  were  plainly  discernible. 

"I  have  heard  very  much  of  you,  Mr.  McCarty.  You  are 
welcome  to  our  set,"  said  Bracer. 

"Deuced  glad  to  know  you,"  said  Norwood,  poising  his 
cue  in  one  hand,  and  favoring  Guyon  with  a  patronizing 
stare. 

"I'm  afraid  the  pleasure  is  all  on  my  side,"  said  Guyon. 
"I  am  honored  by  your  acquaintance,  gentlemen." 

"Where  have  you  been  keeping  yourself,  Brandon?" 
queried  Bracer. 

"Nowhere  in  particular,  and  everywhere  in  general," 
he  replied. 

"Will  you  join  us  in  a  game,  fellows?" 

"With  pleasure,"  said  Guyon. 

"All  right;  select  your  cue.  They're  all  pretty  good, 
still,  you  may  have  a  preference." 

"I  say,  McCarty,"  said  Norwood,  when  the  game  was 
fairly  progressing,  "haven't  I  seen  you  somewhere  before  ?" 

"I  really  don't  know.  I  can't  recollect  having  seen 
you." 

"Still,  your  face  is  familiar.  Pardon  me,  but  it's  not  a 
face  one  meets  every  day." 

"So  out  of  the  ordinary?  I  don't  think  that  it  has 
graced  the  Rogues'  Gallery  yet,"  Guyon  replied. 

"No,  no,  I  didn't  mean  that;  your  phiz  is  all  right. 
Now,  I  have  it, — I  saw  you  at  the  race  track." 

"Most  probably;  I  attended  the  races." 

"I  was  dead  sure  of  it!  Pretty  nice  sport,  isn't  it? 
And  one  sees  some  deuced  fine  stock  there," 


A  STAG  SUPPER.  129 

"Very  fine  stock — I  generally  lost  on  them." 

"The  women?" 

"No,  the  horses." 

"Did  you  hear  that,  Barclay?"  whispered  Norwood  to 
his  friend.  "McCarty  is  not  so  slow  as  he  appears.  We 
must  take  him  in  hand." 

"Leave  that  to  me.  He'll  be  a  jolly  sport  before  the 
season  is  out,"  replied  Barclay;  then  addressing  the 
others : 

"Say,  you  fellows,  I've  taken  the  liberty  to  order  a 
little  spread  up  stairs  in  honor  of  our  new  member.  I 
trust  you  will  join  us,  Mr.  McCarty,  and  vou  Mr.  Bran 
don?" 

"With  pleasure,"  replied  Guyon. 

"Now,  that  is  a  surprise,  Barclay,"  said  Harold.  "Do 
you  know,  my  friend  and  I  were  inspecting  the  place,  and 
we  found  one  of  the  private  dining-rooms  closed.  Making 
inquiry,  I  learned  from  Owens  that  you  were  giving  a 
supper  to-night;  but  had  not  the  slightest  idea  that  we 
were  to  be  the  recipients  of  your  hospitality." 

"Didn't  you  ?  Well,  you  see,  it  isn't  often  we  can  catch 
you,  Hal;  and  then,  we  thought  we'd  like  to  make  it  all- 
around  comfortable  for  Mr.  McCarty  here." 

"Oh,  I  see!"  replied  Harold  with  significant  emphasis. 
"Are  any  others  invited  ?" 

"Yes,  I  asked  Percival.  He's  a  good  fellow,  but  rather 
staid  and  sober  like  yourself.  There's  the  summons  now 
— haste  to  the  feast !" 

The  President  of  the  Club  was  waiting  outside  the 
billiard-room;  and  the  party  were  soon  seated  around 
a  rather  luxuriously  appointed  board.  After  the  tempting 
viands  were  disposed  of,  wine  began  to  flow,  such  wine  as 
only  the Club  could  boast  of. 

Mr.  Percival  proposed  the  toast  of  the  evening  "The 


A  GENTLEMAN  BORN. 

new  member,"  to  which  Guyon  replied  in  a  few  appropriate 
remarks,  after  which  Harold  proposed  "The  Ladies." 

"The  Ladies,  God  bless  them!"  cried  Barclay.  "It's 
only  a  shame  that  they  are  not  with  us  to-night." 

"You  object  to  stag  suppers  ?"  said  Guyon. 

"Object  to  them?  Most  emphatically.  There  is  no 
pleasure  in  life,  no  matter  when  or  where  you  may  name 
it,  that  is  complete  without  the  presence  of  the  beautiful 
sex." 

"Granted,  excellent!  most  delicately  put,"  said  Mr. 
Percival. 

"So  say  I,"  chimed  in  Bracer.  "Only,  don't  cher  know, 
I  enjoy  above  all  things  a  little  supper  after  the  play  in 
company  with  a  few  pretty  chorus  girls,  a  ballet  dancer,  or 
something  of  that  sort." 

"I  cannot  say  that  I  appreciate  your  taste,"  said  Harold. 
"These  women  may  be  all  right  in  their  place;  but  I 
don't  see  why  we  should  wine  them  and  dine  them." 

"Don't  you?  That's  just  the  part  of  your  education 
which  has  been  neglected." 

"And  for  which  I  am  not  sorry." 

"For  my  part,"  remarked  Guyon,  "I  agree  with  Mr. 
Brandon.  I  feel  that  we  men  do  not  and  cannot  court  the 
society  of  women  of  that  class  without  a  social  detriment 
ensuing  either  to  ourselves  or  to  them." 

"You  are  quite  right,  Mr.  McCarty,"  said  Percival. 
"From  what  our  friend  Bracer  has  said,  we  must  infer 
that  the  object  in  meeting  these  women  is  pleasure;  not 
intellectual  pleasure  always;  for  chorus  girls  are  not  as 
a  rule  given  to  pursuits  of  the  intellect.  What  then? 
The  enjoyment  must  be,  to  say  the  least,  questionable." 

"That  depends  upon  the  way  you  look  at  it !"  exclaimed 
Barclay,  warming  to  the  subject.  "I  claim  that  a 
beautiful  woman,  one  who  possesses  a  figure  which  an 


A  STAG  SUPPER.  131 

artist  or  a  sculptor  would  rave  over,  whose  eyes  are  be- 
witchingly  ravishing,  whose  complexion  is  immaculate, 
is  far  more  entrancing  to  a  man's  vision  than  one  who  is 
passingly  pretty  and  possesses  the  highest  intellectual 
gifts."  ' 

"In  a  word,"  said  Guyon,  "you  prefer  that  which  ap 
peals  to  the  sensuous,  the  passionate  side  of  manhood?" 

"If  you  take  it  so,  I  do.  What  are  women  created  for, 
I  should  like  to  know,  if  not  for  our  amusement?" 

"To  be  the  merest  creatures  and  slaves,  as  they  were 
in  the  days  of  luxurious  Greece  and  Rome?"  exclaimed 
Harold. 

"I  have  not  gone  to  that  limit;  but  since  you  mention 
it,  I  can  suggest  no  better  employment  for  the  darlings." 

"A  toast  to  Barclay's  white  slave !"  cried  Norwood. 

"Are  you  drunk  or  crazy,  Norwood  ?"  whispered  Barclay 
to  his  friend;  at  the  same  time  his  face  flushed  crimson 
as  he  looked  furtively  from  one  to  the  other  to  note  the 
effect  of  the  remark. 

"I  am  certain  that  Mr.  Barclay  does  not  wish  us  to 
drink  to  that  toast,  judging  by  his  countenance,"  said 
Percival. 

"You  will  retract  your  opinions  of  the  fair  sex,  Mr. 
Barclay,"  said  Guyon,  "when  you  recall  one  who  at  least 
cannot  be  numbered  in  the  class  you  mention." 

"I  am  at  a  loss  to  understand  you,  sir." 

"Mr.  McCarty  can  refer  to  none  other  than  the 
beautiful  and  accomplished  young  lady  whom  we  three 
met  at  Newport,"  said  Harold. 

"Oh,  that  is  another  matter!  I  pray  you  drop  it  from 
our  conversation." 

"Considering  the  drift  of  the  conversation,  nothing 
would  please  us  better,"  replied  Harold  with  emphasis. 

"Gentlemen,"  cried  Bracer,  now  a  little  the  worse  for 


132  A  GENTLEMAN  BORN. 

the  many  glasses  of  champagne  he  had  imbibed,  "we  have 
not  yet  heard  from  the  toast  Mr.  Norwood  so  gallantly 
proposed." 

"Damn  you!     Will  you  be  quiet?"  exclaimed  Barclay. 

"I  see  no  harm  in  the  toast,"  persisted  the  irrepressi 
ble  Bracer.  "Why  shouldn't  you  carry  into  effect  the 
theory  you  so  lately  gave  utterance  to  ?  If  women  are  but 
for  our  pleasure,  why " 

"This  is  going  too  far !  It  is  surpassing  the  bounds  of 
decency,  to  say  the  least,"  said  Mr.  Percival.  "If  you 
persist  in  the  present  trend  of  your  remarks,  I  for  one  shall 
Avithdraw." 

"You  surely  will  not  break  up  this  little  festivity  ?"  said 
Barclay.  "We  were  but  expressing  our  individual  opinions. 
This  is  a  liberty  which  can  be  denied  to  no  one." 

"For  my  part,"  said  Guyon,  "I  fail  to  understand  why 
men  cannot  sit  down  to  their  wine  without  uttering  some 
unfavorable  comments  on  the  opposite  sex.  They  deserve 
our  highest  respect  and  admiration.  Gentlemen,  when 
you  are  speaking  in  such  a  strain,  do  you  reflect  for  a 
moment  that  your  general  allusions  must  include  your  own 
mothers  and  sisters." 

"Bravo,  Guy!"  cried  Harold. 

"Mr.  McCarty  surely  forgot  to  mention  our  cousins  and 
aunts,"  said  Norwood. 

"You  are  a  little  too  strait-laced,  McCarty,"  said 
Barclay.  "You  haven't  been  about  town  much,  I  presume." 

"What  part  of  it,  may  I  ask?" 

"Oh,  the  Tenderloin  district,  for  instance." 

"No,  I  must  confess  an  ignorance  of  that  select  (?)  por 
tion  of  the  city." 

"Doesn't  know  the  Tenderloin !  That's  a  go !"  shouted 
Bracer.  "Why,  you  must  do  it  before  you're  a  day  older." 


A  STAG  SUPPER.  133 

"Perhaps  I  shall;  but  even  then,  I  doubt  if  the  ob 
servation  will  change  my  expressed  opinions." 

"Wait  and  see !"  said  Bracer. 

From  this  point  the  conversation  gradually  drifted  to 
a  lower  plane;  and  Norwood  was  relating  some  of  his  ex 
periences  and  "jolly  good  times"  in  the  aforesaid  local- 
"j,  when  Percival,  who  had  now  become  thoroughly  dis 
gusted,  rose  and  left  the  room,  followed  by  Harold. 
Guyon  was  also  about  to  withdraw,  but  Barclay  whispered 
that  he  desired  a  private  conversation. 

"I  want  to  have  a  few  words  with  you,"  he  said  when 
they  reached  one  of  the  little  cafes  on  the  same  floor. 
"I  believe  from  what  I  saw  of  you  at  Newport,  and  from 
some  of  your  remarks  this  evening,  that  you  are  interested 
in  Miss  Gordon?" 

"Pardon  me,  sir,"  Guyon  replied  with  unfeigned  anger 
and  surprise,  "I  do  not  see  how  it  concerns  you,  or  what 
warrant  you  have  for  addressing  me  on  this  subject." 

"I  intend  no  offence,  perhaps  I  am  mistaken;  but  the 
very  fact  of  your  rescuing  her  at  the  time  of  the  sorry 
capsizing  of  my  yacht,  your  taking  so  much  upon  yourself 
in  conveying  her  to  her  home " 

"Counts  for  nothing.  I  would  have  done  the  same  for 
anyone  under  the  same  circumstances." 

"Ah,  then  I  am  mistaken,"  persisted  Barclay,  with  evi 
dent  chagrin.  "Perhaps  you  heard  the  rumor  of  our 
engagement  ?" 

"I  did,  and  more.  I  heard  your  conversation  on  the 
cliffs,  which  confirmed  any  vague  gossip  that  might  have 
reached  me." 

"You  heard  the  conversation  ?  The  Devil,  you  say ! 
Now  I  cannot  imagine  that  you  were  an  intentional  eaves 
dropper." 


134  A  GENTLEMAN  BORN. 

'"Perhaps  you  had  better  not  go  that  far,"  exclaimed 
Guyon. 

"Easy  now,  no  insult  intended;  didn't  know  that  you 
were  so  hot ;  but  since  you  heard  so  much  by  chance,  I  can 
only  add  what  you  probably  did  not  hear." 

"I  did  not  remain  long  in  my  position,  I  can  assure  you. 
I  was  strolling  among  the  cliffs,  chanced  to  be  on  the  path 
above  the  bridge,,  and  the  sound  came  to  me  with  accurate 
distinctness." 

"I  see!  Pardon  me,  once  more.  As  I  was  saying. 
Miss  Gordon  on  that  occasion  proved  that  she  can  be 
most  cruel  and  cold-hearted." 

"Do  you  tell  me  that  she  rejected  you?"  cried  Guyon. 
The  confession  came  so  suddenly  that  he  betrayed  his  own 
inmost  feelings,  not  only  in  the  sound  of  his  voice,  but 
also  in  the  heightened  color  of  his  countenance.  Nothing 
escaped  Barclay's  scrutinizing  glance.  He  had  now  caught 
the  idea  he  was  after. 

"Rejected  me  is  a  tame  word,"  he  replied.  "She  posi 
tively  declared  that  she  could  not  endure  my  presence." 

"Ah !" — It  was  something  like  a  deep-drawn  sigh  of 
relief,  as  the  dawn  of  a  new  ray  of  hope  shot  athwart  the 
shadows  of  his  soul. 

"You  are  convinced  now,  I  trust,"  said  Barclay,  "that 
my  interest  in  the  young  lady  is  at  an  end.  Of  course, 
you  are  at  liberty  to  follow  your  own  ideas,  only  I  thought 
you  might  profit  by  my  experience — that's  all." 

"You  are  kind  to  take  the  trouble,  but,  I  assure  you, 
there  is  not  the  least  need  of  it." 

"I'm  on  the  right  track,  after  all,"  thought  Barclay. 
"Perhaps  she  loved  him  and  that  was  the  reason  why  she 
refused  me !  Bah !  two  can  play  at  that  little  game,  old 
chap.  George  Barclay  was  never  yet  foiled  in  his  object 
without  his  adversary  counting  the  cost." 


A  STAG  SUPPER.  135 

And  Guyon,  when  he  parted  from  this  strange  man  on 
terms  of  friendship,  as  the  growing  warmth  of  his  love 
lighted  up  his  nature,  felt  that  he  must  be  grateful  to 
him,  seeing  that  he  had  brought  this  wonderful  gift  back 
again  to  his  heart. 


136  A  GENTLEMAN  BORN. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

CONSPIRATORS. 

"You  are  prompt  in  responding  to  my  invitation,  Mr. 
Barclay." 

"I  generally  try  to  be,  sir;  but  I  must  say  that  the  in 
vitation  was  a  little  surprise,  after  what  has  occurred." 

"Doubtless.  Come  up  to  my  private  suite,  and  we  will 
talk  a  little  on  that  subject  and  on  others  of  kindred  in 
terest." 

The  meeting  by  special  appointment  between  these  two 
gentlemen  was  at  Perry  Barrington's  Club.  Like  to  that  in 
which  Guy  on  had  made  his  debut,  this  was  a  most  fashionable 
club,  although  the  members  were  older,  and  supposed  to 
be  of  more  settled  habits.  The  decorations  were  solid  and 
substantial,  old  in  style,  but  not  a  part  of  anything  was 
wanting  that  would  suggest  wealth  and  warmth  of  color. 
Even  the  rugs  on  the  highly  polished  floors  were  of  Oriental 
texture,  while  footfalls  on  the  stairs  were  hushed  in  the 
richest  carpets.  The  portraits  in  the  library,  the  general 
cafe,  and  in  the  room  set  aside  for  the  directors,  were  real 
masterpieces;  while  a  massive  window  of  stained  glass, 
just  at  the  head  of  the  main  stairway,  was  a  work  of  art  in 
itself,  showing  to  best  advantage  when  the  sun's  mellow 
rays  at  evening  streamed  full  upon  it,  bringing  out  the 
faintest  touches  of  light  and  shade. 

Perry's  suite  of  rooms,  to  which  he  was  conducting  Bar 
clay,  were  on  the  fourth  floor.  The  sitting-room,  where  a 
couple  of  arm  chairs  drawn  up  before  an  open  grate  fire 
suggested  in  themselves  a  kindly  welcome,  not  to  speak  of 


CON8PIRA  TORS.  1 37 

a  couch,  bookcases,  a  mahogany  desk,  more  easy  chairs 
and  a  table  with  its  burden  of  decanter,  glasses  and  cigars. 
Adjoining  was  the  sleeping  apartment  which  Perry  rarely 
if  ever  occupied. 

"Be  seated  here,  Mr.  Barclay.  What  will  you  have? 
This  is  fairly  good  whiskey — help  yourself — that's  right. 
Nothing  like  making  yourself  at  home,  my  boy." 

"One  could  not  do  otherwise  in  presence  of  such  gen 
erous  hospitality,  sir." 

"That  is  what  club-life  fosters,  I  think.  Take  a 
cigar !  Now  that  we  feel  more  at  home,  I  will  speak  on  the 
theme  we  started  below." 

"Exactly.  As  I  was  saying,  you  must  know  my  feelings 
after  what  has  happened  between  your  Ward  and  myself." 

"What  happened?  Nonsense!  Girls  are  whimsical. 
They  say  'No'  one  day  and  regret  it  the  next." 

"Do  you  say  that  Miss  Gordon  has  relented?" 

"How  should  I  know  that  ?" 

"From  your  remark,  I  surmised  that  she  had  confided 
in  you." 

"No,  I  did  not  go  that  far.  I  said,  or  rather  intended 
to  say  that,  generally  speaking,  girls  do  not  always  under 
stand  themselves  in  affairs  de  coeur" 

"I  do  not  see  how  that  helps  me  out,"  said  Barclay, 
rising  from  his  chair  and  pacing  the  apartment. 

"You  do  not  catch  the  drift  of  my  remarks,"  suggested 
Perry,  puffing  leisurely  at  his  cigar,  and  not  even  deign 
ing  to  glance  at  the  young  man.  "Take  my  assertion  for 
granted,  what  follows?  May  not  my  Ward  exercise  her 
privilege  and  change  her  mind  ?" 

"Yes,"  said  Barclay,  pausing  in  his  walk,  "if  her  affec 
tions  and  her  heart  are  not  already  bestowed  in  another 
direction." 

"The  Devil,  you  say !"  exclaimed  Perry  with  well-assumed 


138  A   GENTLEMAN  BORN. 

agitation.  "Pray,  how  came  you  by  this  information  ?  If 
there  is  anything  in  it,  I,  as  the  young  lady's  guardian, 
should  be  the  first  to  know  it." 

"And  not  the  last  to  act,  sir,  I  trust.  Before  I  answer 
your  question  directly,  allow  me  to  ask  you  another.  You 
said  that  you  invited  me  here  to-night  concerning  your 
Ward.  Is  my  suit  agreeable  to  you  ?" 

"It  is.  Of  all  the  young  men  who  have  sought  the  hand 
and  the  fortune  of  Miss  Gordon,  there  is  not  one  to 
whom  I  would  more  willingly  bestow  this  priceless  treasure 
than  yourself.  Without  attempting  flattery,  you  have 
appeared  in  a  most  favorable  light  even  before  I  was  con 
scious  of  your  intentions  towards  my  Ward.  Your  family 
name  is  without  a  blemish.  .Your  own  character — well, 
we  do  not  turn  too  many  searchlights  upon  a  young  man's 
character  nowadays.  You  are  not,  I  believe,  worse  than 
others.  To  sum  up,  I  wish  you  to  marry  Miss  Gordon. 
Does  that  satisfy  you  ?" 

"Perfectly,  sir.  Now,  you  will  pardon  me  for  not  re 
plying  to  your  question  before.  I  wished  to  be  certain  that 
you,  at  least,  were  favorably  disposed  towards  me,  not 
prejudiced  in  favor  of  another." 

"You  speak  as  though  you  had  some  definite  knowl 
edge  of  this  other  party.  Are  you  positive  that  he  really 
exists,  and  is  not  a  phantom  conjured  up  by  your  natural 
jealousy  ?" 

"A  pretty  substantial  phantom,  sir;  do  you  wish  his 
name?" 

"Name  him,  by  all  means;  I  would  become  better  ac 
quainted  with  the  gentleman  who  aspires  to  Miss  Gordon's 
hand,  who  dares  to  override  my  wishes,  and  set  himself  up 
as  your  rival." 

"That's  just  the  point,  sir,"  exclaimed  Barclay,  now 
thoroughly  roused,  and  pacing  the  floor  in  visible  ex- 


CONSPIRATORS.  139 

citement.  "Gentleman,  you  say — beggar,  or  almost  as 
bad!" 

"Come,  come,  Barclay,  you  are  excited ;  this  is  going  too 
far,  you  know.  Mustn't  mention  beggar  in  the  same  breath 
with  the  Southern  Beauty.  Take  another  drink,  sir, — 
a  little  seltzer — Straight?  You  know  best;  it  can't  hurt 
you  anyhow." 

"His  name,"  exclaimed  Barclay,  pausing  long  enough 
to  empty  his  glass,  "his  name  is  Guyon  McCarty." 

"You  cannot  be  serious,  Barclay.  This  fellow  has  seen 
Miss  Gordon  but  a  very  few  times." 

"Even  those  few  times  may  have  been  sufficient  to  en 
gender  a  passion  in  the  young  fellow's  heart.  He  was 
her  partner  in  a  dance,  was  seen  in  earnest  conversation  with 
her  on  the  veranda,  the  night  of  the  ball,  and  he  saved 
her  life  at  the  risk  of  his  own." 

"Enough!  What  does  all  this  prove?  Did  she,  my 
Ward,  mention  his  name  to  you  in  such  a  way  as  to  give  you 
the  idea  that  she  loved  him?" 

"She  has  not;  still,  I  am  almost  certain — I  would  that 
I  were  dead  certain,  then  I  could  go  to  any  extremity  to 
rid  my  path  of  him." 

"Not  so  fast,  Barclay.  Take  another  drink!  Nothing 
like  good  whiskey  for  clearing  the  mind." 

"Don't  care  if  I  do,  sir.  It  is  deuced  good  stuff,  better 
than  ours  down  at  the Club." 

"To  return  to  our  mutton,  I  think  you  will  find  this 
McCarty  a  pretty  tough  customer  to  deal  with,"  remarked 
Barrington.  "Now  tell  me  how  you  are  certain  that  he 
is  infatuated  with  Miss  Gordon." 

"Nothing  easier,  sir.  I  buttonholed  him  last  night  at 
our  Club.  We'd  been  having  a  little  talk  about  women 
over  our  wine,  and  I  found  him  so  thoroughly  proper  and 


140  A   GENTLEMAN  BORN. 

moral  regarding  them,  that  I  judged  he  had  met  his 
ideal." 

"His  ideal — ha,  ha!  The  McCarty  ideal,  that  is 
rich!" 

"Exactly;  when  I  got  him  into  conversation,  I  found 
that  he  had  been  in  concealment  near  the  spot  where  Miss 
Gordon  and  myself  had  our  little  talk  on  that  eventful 
evening.  Thereupon,  I  confessed  the  whole  matter,  spoke 
of  how  badly  I  had  been  treated  and  so  on.  You  should 
have  seen  his  face  and  heard  his  long-drawn  sigh,  like  the 
air- vent  to  some  steam  boiler." 

"He  said  nothing  which  would  compromise  himself?" 

"No,  sir, — still,  I  could  almost  swear  by  those  sighs  that 
he  loves  Miss  Gordon;  and  the  fact  of  his  rescuing  her 
must  have  at  least  produced  a  favorable  impression  upon 
her." 

"You  reason  well,  Plato.  I  wonder  you  do  not  pose  as 
a  philosopher." 

"Can  you  take  all  thia  so  coldly,  sir?  Think  of  it,  this 
low-born  fellow,  the  son  of  an  Irish  contractor,  is  actually 
going  in  the  race  with  us  fellows  for  the  hand  of  your 
Ward." 

"Low  Irish,"  said  Perry,  as  though  speaking  to  him 
self.  "What  would  you  say  if  I  told  you  that  the  con 
tractor  and  his  wife  are  not  his  parents;  that  he  is — so 
to  speak — a  young  fellow  without  an  origin?" 

"Damn  it,  sir!  How  do  you  know?"  exclaimed  Bar 
clay,  who  had  resumed  his  promenade,  which  was  a  little 
less  steady  than  at  first,  and  now  paused  again  in  front  of 
Barrington. 

"How  do  I  know?  On  the  very  best  authority,  although 
I  do  not  deem  it  necessary  to  reveal  it  to  you." 

"Without  an  origin !  And  you  will  permit  him  to  foster 
the  passion  for  your  Ward?" 


CONSPIRATORS.  141 

"And  you,  George  Barclay,  will  you  allow  him  to  be  your 
rival?"  exclaimed  Perry,  turning  now  his  eyes  for  the 
first  time  full  upon  the  young  man  whom  the  effects  of 
the  neatly  prepared  liquor  and  the  conversation,  had 
wrought  up  to  almost  a  frenzy  of  rage. 

"By  all  the  furies  of  Hell,  I  won't !"  screamed  Barclay. 
"I'll  shoot  him  at  sight!  I'll  poison  him,  s'help  me! — 
I'll " 

"No,  you  won't  do  anything  of  the  kind.  That  is  well 
enough  on  the  stage,  Barclay;  but  it  won't  go  here  in 
our  respectable  society.  There  are  other  ways  of  getting 
a  man  out  of  the  way,  if  you  only  knew  them." 

"I  don't  care  a  Continental  for  any  of  them!  I  want 
McCarty  out  of  my  path,  the  sooner  the  better." 

"Then,  sit  down  and  be  calm,  my  boy.  I  will  not  talk 
to  you  while  you  are  in  that  excited  frame  of  mind.  First 
of  all,  you  must  promise  me  that  no  grievous  injury  will 
come  to  the  iellow.  You  must  acknowledge  that  I  am  act 
ing  in  your  interest.  Of  course,  it  is  no  concern  of 
mine;  as  far  as  that  goes,  it  is  very  easy  for  me  to  pre 
vent  him  from  courting  my  Ward.  A  word  to  her  would 
be  sufficient.  Still,  as  you  judge  that  he  is  your  rival,  and 
wish  to  put  him  away, — let  us  see — do  you  know  anything 
about  his  personal  habits?" 

"I  have  heard  that  he  frequents  the  races,  sir." 

"Good !  Does  he  go  in  for  women  ?  Not  that  I  would 
counsel  such  a  course  in  a  young  man,  Heaven  forbid!" 

"I  think  not.     However,  it  is  difficult  to  say." 

"Well,  I  will  give  you  one  hint. — Waters  which  are 
on  the  mountains  and  hills  seek  their  level,  generally  at 
a  pretty  lively  pace.  This  man  was  a  child  of  the  streets ; 
can  you  imagine  how  his  inclination  will  run  ?  Give  him 
a  taste  of  all  the  pleasures  you  know  of,  take  him  around 
town,  visit  the  opium  dens " 


142  A  GENTLEMAN  BORN. 

"Ah,  I  have  it,  sir !  Your  idea  is  capital.  How  stupid 
in  me  not  to  have  realized  it !" 

"Aw — yes — rather  stupid!"  said  Perry,  stretching  his 
arms  and  yawning,  '''rather  stupid!  Then,  when  he  be 
comes  acquainted  with  the  shady  side  of  life,  he  will 
naturally  drift  apart  from  these  foster-parents;  they  will 
disown  him.  He  retires  from  our  stage,  and  the  curtain 
falls  upon  McCarty.  What  becomes  of  him  after  that  is 
no  concern  of  ours." 

"You  are  wonderful  in  resources,  sir.  I  would  not  have 
thought  of  so  excellent  a  plan.  In  my  mad  jealous  fury. 
I  might  have  assassinated  the  fellow;  then  there  would 
have  been  the  Devil  to  pay  in  the  courts,  scandal  and  all 
that.  Now,  I  am  relieved  of  him  in  the  quietest  way  pos 
sible.  Oh,  leave  it  to  me,  sir,  to  hatch  out  the  cleverest 
scheme  for  ambushing  this  most  moral  and  cultured  gentle 
man  (?).  I  see  it  all  before  me  now." 

"Do  you  ?  Well,  I  suppose  you  want  time  to  think  over 
the  details." 

"Yes,  sir,  I  must  leave  you  now,  if  you  don't  mind." 

"Not  at  all — have  another  drink?  No;  well,  perhaps 
you'd  better  not.  Remember,  it  was  in  your  interest  that 
I  suggested  this;  the  fellow  is  nothing  to  me." 

"Surely,  sir,  I  shall  never  forget  your  great  kindness. 
Good-night,  sir." 

"Ha,  ha,  my  blooming  young  popinjay !  How  cleverly  he 
played  into  my  hands,"  thought  Perry,  after  his  guest  had 
departed.  "That  was  a  good  suggestion  of  mine.  I  wonder 
what  will  finally  become  of  the  young  Beaumont?  I  don't 
want  his  death  laid  at  my  door — but  if  Barclay's  scheme 
doesn't  succeed,  damn  it,  we'll  have  to  try  some  stronger 
measures.  He  must  not,  he  shall  not  cross  my  path 
again !" 


COUNTERPLOT.  143 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

COUNTERPLOT. 

THAT  same  evening,  Guyon  was  entertaining  his  friend 
Harold  at  the  McCarty  home,  owing  to  a  strong  hint  to 
this  purpose  which  his  foster-mother  had  given  him. 

They  were  all  chatting  together  in  the  cozy  reception- 
room.  The  old  contractor,  who  was  longing  for  his  ac 
customed  smoke,  ever  and  anon  interposed  a  remark  to 
the  effect  that  they  should  adjourn  to  his  "din";  but  the 
hostess  was  deaf  to  it  all,  so  intent  was  she  oil  her  con 
versation  with  Harold,  treasuring  every  word  of  society 
gossip,  which  he  manufactured  for  her  special  benefit,  to 
be  retailed  to  her  choice  acquaintances. 

At  this  juncture,  the  butler  appeared  at  the  door  an 
nouncing:  "The  Foreman,  Mr.  Biglin." 

"Phwat  does  he  want  ter  see  me  about?"  asked  Mr. 
McCarty,  thinking  that  at  last  an  opportunity  had  come 
for  him  to  escape. 

"He  says  as  he  wants  ter  speak  ter  the  young  gentle 
man,  sir." 

"You  found  Pietro!"  exclaimed  Guyon,  when  he  had 
piloted  Biglin  into  the  "den,"  where  Mr.  McCarty  joined 
them  for  a  bit  of  a  smoke. 

"Dat's  jes'  yer  cue.  I  got  onter  'im,  as  yer's  squealin' 
Guy,  an'  I  tought  I'd  let  youse  know  it." 

"Did  he  tell  you  anything  about  me?" 

"Jes'  wait  till  I  tells  youse.  0'  first,  de  bloke  wus  shy 
o'  me.  Maybe  I  ain't  on  de  police  force,  but  de  mug  tought 


144  A  GENTLEMAN  BORN. 

I  wns  made  up  like  one  o'  dem  detective  guys ;  an'  he  sed 
as  he  never  know'd  de  woman  Kosa,  ner  nothin'  'bout 
>er." 

"Ah!"  cried  Guyon  with  a  disappointed  air. 

"Den,  I  gies  'im  a  song  an'  dance  'bout  youse,  Guy. 
an'  'bout  youse  bein'  stoled  frum  de  big  blokes  up  town. 
Hully  gee !  youse  ought'er  seed  his  mug— it  turned  green  es 
Patrick's  day  in  de  mornin';  an'  'e  pulls  out  a  big  pig 
sticker,  an'  makes  a'  me,  as  dough  I  wus  a  pig." 

"He  didn't  hurt  ye,  now,"  exclaimed  the  old  contractor, 
starting  out  of  his  reverie  among  the  clouds  of  tobacco 
smoke. 

"'Urt  me,  nit!  Never  hit  dis  blokie.  I  jes'  gied  'im 
one  dat  sent  de  sticker  one  way,  an'  'im  de  odder.  Den. 
when  'e  picks  'imsel'  up,  wot  does  de  crazy  Dago  do  but 
shake  'an's  wid  me,  an'  gie  me  de  string  dat  'e'd  do  any- 
ting  I  axes  'im,  only  'e's  out  f  er  de  plunks,  see  ?" 

"If  that  is  all,  we  can  supply  you  liberally,"  replied 
Guyon.  "But  are  you  certain  that  he  knows  anything 
worth  paying  for?" 

"Now,  dat's  de  game,  Guy!  'E  mought  be  giein'  me 
de  string  jes'  fer  de  plunks;  den.  'e  mought  know  suthin' 
an'  when  'e  gits  de  plunks,  'e  mought  fly  de  coop." 

"I'm  afraid  there  is  nothing  in  it,  Dad,"  said  Guyon, 
after  a  moment's  reflection.  "If  that  woman  Kosa  were 
living,  she  would  know  the  whole  story.  As  to  the  man, 
all  that  we  can  vouch  for  thus  far  is  that  he  visited  the 
house;  and  there  is  only  one  chance  out  of  ten  that  she 
told  him  of  my  abduction." 

"I'm  thinkin'  as  he  might  be  the  chap  as  carried  ye 
off.  Guy,"  said  Mr.  McCarty. 

"How  do  you  come  to  that  conclusion,  Dad?" 

"Jes'  frum  the  color  he  turned  whin  Biglin  confronted 
him  wid  the  story.  Sure,  he  wouldn't  turn  green  at 


COUNTERPLOT.  145 

all,  if  the  Lord  didn't  force  that  same  swate  color  ter  his 
face,  jes'  ter  convict  him." 

"It  may  be  so;  but  I  doubt  it." 

"Youse  won't  be  trowin'  up  de  game  now!"  exclaimed 
Biglin,  "jes'  when  I  has  me  man  nailed." 

"I'll  give  you  some  money,  Biglin,  and  you  may  come 
to  me  if  you  need  more.  Don't  give  him  a  copper  until  you 
are  certain  he  has  something  to  give  you  in  return.  Lead 
him  on  with  promises,  and  I  will  back  you." 

"Dat's  right  on  de  level,  Guy.  Now  I  wants  to  ax  youse 
ef  youse  set  yer  peepers  on  Dimples  yet?" 

"No,  I  have  not,  Biglin ;  but  I  haven't  given  up  all  hopes 
of  doing  so." 

"Who's  this  Dimples,  Biglin's  talkin'  'bout  ?"  asked  the 
old  contractor,  after  the  young  fellow  had  left  the  house 
with  a  large  roll  of  "plunks"  in  his  possession. 

"I  haven't  told  you  her  story,  have  I,  Dad  ?" 

"Are  you  gentlemen  going  to  stay  in  here  all  night?" 
asked  Mrs.  McCarty,  appearing  at  the  door  of  the  "den." 

"The  Lord  save  us !  me  smoke's  inded  f  er  ter-night  now," 
muttered  the  old  gentleman. 

"We're  coming  out  now,  Mother,"  replied  Guyon.  "We 
have  just  concluded  our  little  business  matter  with  Big 
lin." 

"Your  friend  wishes  to  talk  with  you  before  he  leaves, 
and  you  had  better  come  instantly." 

"We're  comin',  we're  comin' !  Mary,  sure  ye  needn't  make 
such  a  fuss  about  it.  Now,  Guy,"  he  continued,  when  they 
were  sitting  together  once  more,  "phwat  wus  that  ye  wus 
tellin'  me  about  Dimples?" 

"Dimples  ?  Why,  I  never  heard  of  such  a  name !  Is  it 
one  of  Guyon's  young  lady  friends,  Mr.  Brandon?" 
queried  Mrs.  McCarty,  on  the  qui  vive  for  something  new 
and  scandalous, 


146  A  GENTLEMAN  BORN. 

"Not  that  I  know  of,  I  assure  you,  Madam.  I  never 
heard  the  name  mentioned  before/' 

"No,  you  did  not.  I  was  on  the  point  of  relating  her 
history  to  Father  when  you  summoned  us  from  the  smok 
ing  den,"  replied  Guyon. 

"But  who  is  she?"  persisted  Mrs.  McCarty. 

"Who  she  is  now,  I  cannot  tell.  All  I  know  is  that  she 
was  a  beautiful  baby  girl  some  fifteen  years  ago  when 
Biglin  and  myself  found  her  one  cold  December  night, 
under  the  arches  of  the  Brooklyn  Bridge.  Eecently  he 
told  me  that  she  is  still  alive,  grown  to  be  a  beautiful 
young  lady;  and  is  employed  as  a  chorus  girl  in  one  of 
our  theatres." 

"For  goodness  sakes!  To  think  of  it!  What  a  horrid 
creature  she  must  be!"  cried  the  hostess.  "How  strange 
that  you  never  mentioned  the  incident  to  us,  Guyon." 

"I  had  forgotten  it  myself  until  Biglin's  conversation 
recalled  it;  then  it  dawned  upon  me  that  I  might  have 
done  something  to  save  the  girl  while  I  was  brooding  over 
my  own  troubles." 

"Don't  think  of  it,  Guy,  me  b'y!  don't  think  of  it. 
Sure,  no  good  can  come  of  it,  an'  mavbe  only  harm  ter 
yeseF !" 

"I  think  it  is  a  foolish  move  myself,  Guy,"  said  Harold. 
"The  search  Avhich  you  must  institute  would  almost  cer 
tainly  prove  fruitless,  for  you  have  not  the  slightest  clew 
upon  which  to  work;  and  the  girl  has  probably  changed 
her  name  for  theatrical  purposes." 

"It  may  be,"  replied  Guyon;  "still,  I  shall  make  the 
attempt.  Do  you  think  that  Mr.  Barclay  can  help  me?" 

"As  to  that,  I  would  not  be  very  much  surprised  if 
he  could.  He  has  the  run  of  the  theatres,  and  is  ac 
quainted  with  a  number  of  actresses,  I  believe;  however, 
your  experience  at  the  Club  supper  the  other  night,  must 


COUNTEPPLOT.  147 

give  you  an  insight  into  the  class  of  women  he  travels 
with." 

"True,"  replied  Guyon.  "I  will  think  over  the  matter. 
Of  course,  I  would  prefer  to  have  you  as  a  companion  in 
my  search,  Hal,  for  I  am  determined  to  make  it;  and 
I  shall  use  any  means  which  shall  be  suggested." 

"That's  just  like  3rou,  old  fellow,"  said  Harold,  as  he 
bade  his  friend  good-night.  "You  know  something  of  the 
man  with  whom  you  choose  to  associate,  so  there  is  no 
need  for  me  to  give  a  further  warning.  How  about  your 
own  case  ?  Did  Biglin  tell  you  anything  ?" 

"Not  much.  In  fact,  the  little  he  told  me,  had  only 
the  effect  of  adding  to  my  discouragement." 

"Don't  give  up,  old  fellow !  If  it  comes  to  the  worst, 
remember  that  I  shall  always  be  your  friend." 

"I'm  certain  of  that,  Hal;  even  though  I  should  feel 
obliged  to  leave  these,  the  only  parents  I  have  ever  known, 
— I  am  confident  that  you  will  not  desert  me." 

"Nonsense !  This  is  another  of  your  morbid  ideas.  Mr. 
McCarty  will  never  turn  his  back  upon  you  so  long  as 
you  do  nothing  to  lower  yourself  in  his  esteem." 

"God  grant  that  I  may  never  come  to  that!" 

"I  cannot  conceive  it.  Your  ideals  are  too  lofty;  and 
you  have  too  much  self-respect  for  that.  Still,  as  I  said 
before,  it  is  difficult  to  play  with  fire  without  being  scorched. 
Keep  your  weather  eye  upon  Barclay  and  his  chums." 

"I  shall,  most  grave  mentor.  Meanwhile,  don't  men 
tion  what  you  have  heard  concerning  Dimples  to  any 
one." 

"Trust  that  to  me.  Your  confidence  has  always  been 
held  as  sacred." 


148  4  GENTLEMAN  BORN. 

CHAPTER  XVIII. 

BEHIND  THE  SCENES. 

THE  next  evening,  Guyon  went  to  the  Club  with  the 
intention  of  enlisting  Barclay  in  his  scheme  of  hunting  up 
Dimples.  He  found  him  as  usual  in  the  billiard-room, 
just  in  the  midst  of  an  exciting  game  of  pooL 

"How  are  you,  McCarty !  deuced  glad  you've  come !"  ex 
claimed  Barclay,  as  Guyon  sauntered  up  to  the  table. 

"How's  the  game  going?"'  queried  Guyon. 

"Oh,  Bracer's  dead  easy !  I've  won  five  games  from  him 
at  a  fiver  a  game;  and  he  has  staked  a  tenner  on  this. 
Don't  look  as  though  he'd  make  it,  does  it  ?" 

"What  is  your  program  for  to-night,  Mr.  Barclay?" 
asked  Guyon.  "Have  you  any  engagement?" 

"None  whatever.  My  time  is  completely  at  your  dis 
posal;  and,  may  I  ask,  what  do  you  suggest  by  way  of 
passing  the  time?" 

"I  would  like  to  visit  some  of  the  theatres,"  replied 
Guyon,  "not  in  the  ordinary  way,  you  know;  but  be 
hind  the  scenes." 

"Nothing  would  suit  me  better." — "He's  falling  into 
line  charmingly!"  thought  Barclay,  "couldn't  have  done 
so  well  if  I  had  used  very  great  exertion  in  the  matter;" 
then  aloud:  "Of  course  I  don't  know  your  purpose  in 
visiting  the  opposite  side  of  the  curtain.  You  are  on  the 
lookout  for  a  dashing  ballet  girl,  eh?" 

"I  don't  know,"  Guyon  replied  with  evident  embarrass 
ment.  "A  ballet  girl  or  a  chorus  girl;  where  would  we 
be  most  likely  to  meet  them  ?" 

"Ha,  ha!"  laughed  Bracer,  "where,  oh,  where,  is  the 


BEHIND  THE  SCENES.  149 

chorus  girl?  Why,  where  should  she  shine  in  all  the  per 
fection  of  her  make-up,  from  pink  tights  to  penciled  eye 
brows,  unless  at  the  Casino." 

"Right  you  are,  Bracer!  To  the  Casino  we'll  go,  if 
Mr.  McCarty  has  no  objection." 

"I  have  an  object  in  wishing  to  meet  the  chorus  girls, — " 
Guyon  began. 

"Don't  mention  it,  old  fellow,"  chimed  in  Bracer. 
"You're  on  the  right  tack,  you  are.  Just  want  to  spread 
a  little  more  sail,  and  you'll  go  a  flying." 

"You  misunderstand  me !"  Guyon  began  again. 

"Of  course  he  does,"  said  Barclay.  "Don't  mind  what 
he  says,  McCarty.  We  aren't  going  to  start  in  and  quarrel 
right  here.  Ah,  here  are  the  cocktails,  gentlemen — 'The 
Casino  Girls !' " 

It  was  a  short  drive  from  the  Club  to  the  Casino.,  where 
one  of  the  light,  catchy,  comic  operas  was  on  the  boards 
for  an  unlimited  run.  The  special  attraction  for  some 
being  the  bevy  of  noted  actors  and  actresses  in  the  caste: 
while  for  others  it  was  the  number  of  unusually  pretty 
soubrettes  and  chorus  girls.  Guyon  had  witnessed  the 
play  from  the  box,  and  his  growing  determination  to  find 
some  clew  to  Dimples,  was  the  cause  of  his  wishing  to 
go  behind  and  talk  with  the  girls  personally,  if  that  were 
possible. 

"Here  we  are  at  the  stage  entrance!"  exclaimed  Bar 
clay.  "I  don't  know  but  that  you'd  better  remain  out 
side,  Bracer;  you  might  get  knocked  on  the  head  by  a 
stray  piece  of  scenery,  or  by  one  of  the  assistant  stage 
managers  for  making  too  free  with  the  lasses." 

"See  here,  they  know  me  about  as  well  as  they  know 
you,  Barclay.  I  travel  on  my  own  cards,  not  on  yours, 
do  you  understand?" 

"All  right!  hustle  for  yourself,  and  don't  ask  me  to 


150  A  GENTLEMAN  BORN. 

assist  you,  if  you  get  into  trouble.  Look  sharp  how  you 
step,  McCarty,  it's  a  trifle  dark/' 

Entering  the  stage  door,  Guyon  beheld  what  seemed  to 
be  flight  after  flight  of  iron  stairways,  the  monotony  re 
lieved  at  intervals  with  lumber  of  various  descriptions 
piled  against  the  walls.  In  narrow  passages  were  curious 
old  boxes  filled  apparently  with  rubbish;  there,  too,  were 
dilapidated  parts  of  scenes  which  had  outlived  their  use 
fulness,  a  trunk,  a  couple  of  bottomless  chairs,  and  prop 
erty  of  a  like  category. 

"  'When   you   awake   things   are   not   what  they  seem,'  " 

sang  Barclay.  "A  trifle  different  from  what  you  antici 
pated,  eh?" 

"Yes,  very  much.  What  is  that  place  partitioned  off 
from  the  rest?  It  looks  like  a  large  room?" 

"Listen!  did  you  hear  anything?" 

Sounds  of  girlish  voices  and  laughter  just  then  came 
to  their  ears. 

"Yes ;  is  it  a  dressing-room  ?" 

"For  the  chorus  girls.  No  admittance,  you  know !  We 
shall  see  them  later  up  Btairs." 

"What  is  this  room  for?"  queried  Guyon,  as  they 
passed  a  small  apartment  redolent  with  tobacco  smoke,  the 
furniture  consisting  of  several  shaky  chairs,  and  a  few 
broken  music  racks,  while  violin  and  'cello  cases  were  seen 
in  a  corner. 

"It's  the  musicians'  retiring  room.  There  is  the  little 
door  through  which  you  have  many  a  time  watched  them 
make  their  appearance  in  the  orchestra." 

"They  are  out  now,  we  have  not  much  time  before  the 
curtain  rises." 

"Where  is  Bracer?"  asked  Barclay,  who  was  evidently 
annoyed. 


BEHIND   THE  SCENES.  151 

"I  thought  he  had  followed  us  into  the  room." 

"No,  no !  he  is  not  interested  in  such  antiquated  places. 
By  Jove,  they  are  going  up  stairs!" 

"Who?" 

"Who  would  be  going  up  but  the  chorus  girls?  The 
dressing-rooms  for  the  men  are  on  this  floor,  while  the 
principal  actors  and  actresses  have  their  rooms  immediately 
off  from  the  stage." 

Emerging  from  the  musicians'  room,  they  found  that 
the  scene  on  the  stairway  had  changed  as  if  by  magic. 
Ascending  in  groups  of  two  or  singly,  went  the  gay 
assemblage,  which  was  to  grace  the  Court  of  a  Grecian 
princess.  Very  lightly  clad  they  were,  as  became  damsels 
of  the  Eastern  clime ;  but  the  cold  draughts  of  wind  pene 
trating  the  hallwa}rs,  only  caused  these  warm  youngsters 
to  skip  a  little  more  lively,  laughing  still  and  chattering 
like  so  many  magpies. 

"Come  on,  Mac,  you  can  get  a  better  look  at  them  on 
the  stage  before  the  curtain  rises." 

"So  this  is  the  Casino  stage !"  exclaimed  Guyon,  finally 
arriving  at  the  end  of  the  stairways,  and  looking  out  from 
the  small  space  remaining  after  the  "settings"  had  been 
adjusted. 

"Yes.  Be  careful  how  you  roam  about !  here  to  your  left 
are  the  exclusive  dressing-rooms.  You  may  get  a  peep 
into  some  of  them  later  on,  if  we  have  good  luck.  Hello, 
James !"  he  cried  addressing  one  of  the  assistant  stage 
managers.  "This  is  my  friend,  Mr.  McCarty,  he  wants 
to  have  a  look  at  things  behind.  It's  all  right,  I've  seen 
Mr. ." 

"Go  right  ahead,  sir!  Not  much  time,  just  half  a 
minute  before  she  goes  up.  Step  this  way,  Mr.  McCarty. 
Now  you're  on  the  stage.  There  are  the  painted  beauties 


152  A  GENTLEMAN  BORN. 

you  fellows  are  raving  over!  Step  up  close  to  them  and 
give  me  your  opinion." 

"I  prefer  not,"  replied  Guyon.  "I  can  see  them  very 
well  from  here.  Who  is  that  beautiful  girl  standing  al 
most  alone  over  to  the  right?" 

"That  one — oh,  she's  a  dandy!  Beg  your  pardon, 
sir,  just  step  aside — stand  there,  that's  right — All  together ! 
Don't  hold  your  basket  so  stiff,  May !  Let  her  go !" 

And  Guyon  stepped  into  the  wings  as  the  curtain  rose. 

"Well,  what  do  think  of  it  all,  Mac?"  asked  Barclay, 
coming  up  to  where  Guyon  was  standing,  taking  in  the 
different  points  of  interest. 

"It  is  certainly  a  strange  sight.  One  is  completely 
disillusioned  in  coming  here." 

"Oh,  yes,  of  course ;  but  there  is  more  than  bare  boards 
and  the  mechanical  contrivances  to  interest  us.  We  are 
at  liberty  now  to  look  into  these  dressing-rooms,  while  the 
occupants  are  on  the  stage,  unless  you  prefer  to  witness 
the  play." 

"No,  let  us  see  the  rooms." 

"This  is  the  room  of  the  leading  lady.  The  door  is 
dosed;  doubtless,  her  maid  is  within,  so  we'll  not  disturb 
her.  The  one  adjoining  is  appropriated  by  the  lady  next 
in  rank;  you  will  notice  that  the  fixing  up  is  not  so  bad 
on  the  whole.  The  next  belongs  to  the  leading  actor,  a 
marked  difference  from  the  one  we  just  peeped  into." 

"I  should  say  so!"  replied  Guyon,  as  he  noticed  the 
dingy  appearance  of  the  small  apartment,  which  scarcely 
merited  the  name  of  room.  One  chair,  a  trunk  and  a 
dressing-table  over  which  hung  a  small  mirror,  completed 
the  inventory  of  the  furniture.  Various  articles  indispen- 
sible  to  a  comedian  were  scattered  about  the  place,  while 
on  the  dresser  were  boxes  of  grease-paint,  rouge  and 
powder. 


BEHIND  THE  SCENES.  153 

"The  girls  are  coming  off,  and  will  hang  about  here  or 
in  the  flies  until  they  are  called  on  again,"  said  Barclay, 
"I  will  introduce  you  to  a  few,  if  you  wish." 

"Nothing  would  please  me  better.     Where  is  Bracer?" 

"Haven't  the  least  idea.  He  is  able  to  take  care  of  him 
self,  he  says ;  so  don't  worry  about  him.  Here  are  the  dear 
girls  now !  Ah,  there,  Dollie !  Your  voice  is  in  good 
trim,  Lottie!" 

"Oh,  Mr.  Barclay !"  cried  a  bevy  of  girls  now  encircling 
that  popular  young  gentleman.  "Do  you  know,  Daisy 
almost  broke  down  in  her  part,  and  Mr.  James  is  awfully 
angry !" 

"Say,  Mr.  Barclay,"  exclaimed  another,  "when  are  you 
going  to  take  us  to  feed  ?" 

"To-night,  maybe.     Where  is  Daisy?" 

"Daisy  ?  Oh,  she  came  off  with  us !  There  she  is  talk 
ing  with  Mr.  Bracer." 

"Curse  Bracer!"  muttered  Barclay. 

"Will  you  people  make  less  noise  over  there?"  said  the 
stage  manager  in  no  pleasant  tones.  At  which  the  general 
conversation  subsided  into  a  subdued  whisper.  A  moment 
later  Daisy  came  up  to  the  group.  Attired  in  tights  over 
which  was  carelessly  thrown  a  loose  gauze  drapery,  her 
neat,  trim  figure  showed  in  all  the  beauty  of  outline.  She 
was  a  decided  blonde,  with  large,  blue  eyes,  sparkling  with 
fun  and  merriment. 

"Good  evening,  Mr.  Barclay,"  she  said,  holding  out  her 
hand  as  though  she  were  meeting  a  casual  acquaintance. 
At  this,  a  general  snicker  arose  from  the  chorus  girls. 

"What  were  you  doing  over  there  with  Bracer  ?"  queried 
Barclay  in  an  undertone.  "Didn't  I  tell  you  to  be  on 
hand  to  meet  a  particular  friend  of  mine  if  he  should  be 
here?" 


154  ^  GENTLEMAN  BORN. 

"Am  I  not  to  speak  to  a  gentleman  when  he  addresses 
me?  You  are  too  absurb,  Barclay." 

"We'll  see  about  that  later.  Mind  you  appear  at  your 
best  before  this  gentleman." 

"You  shall  be  obeyed,  master,"  she  replied  in  a  tone 
which  displayed  some  spirit  beneath  the  submissive  ex 
terior. 

"Mr.  McCarty,"  said  Barclay,  bringing  Daisy  over  to 
where  Guyon  was  standing,  taking  in  the  by-play  between 
these  two  people  and  wondering  what  it  all  meant.  "I 
want  you  to  know  this  charming  young  lady,  Miss  Daisy 
Dimples." 

"Daisy  Dimples !  Great  Heaven !"  thought  Guyon,  "for 
once  fortune  has  favored  me.  The  name  is  the  same; 
but  can  I  ever  imagine  the  little  tot  I  rescued  fifteen 
years  ago  to  have  matured  into  so  beautiful  a  young 
lady?" 

"What's  the  trouble,  Mr.  McCarty;  don't  you  like  my 
make-up,  or  are  you  so  enchanted  that  you  have  lost  the 
power  of  speech?"  said  the  bold  miss. 

"I  beg  your  pardon,  I  was  thinking  of  a  strange  coin 
cidence  in  the  name.  Certainly,  I  am  pleased  to  know 
you,  Miss — did  I  catch  the  name  correctly?" 

"Daisy  Dimples  is  my  name,  on  the  stage  and  off,  sir." 

"S'hush!"  came  again  from  the  manager. 

"I'll  leave  you  two  for  a  moment.  Don't  talk  him  to 
death,  Daisy.  I  want  to  have  a  word  with  Bracer." 

"Please  don't  hurt  him,  Barclay,  he  really  didn't  mean 
anything,"  was  Daisy's  parting  appeal. 

"I  suppose  you  have  been  on  the  stage  some  time?"  re 
marked  Guyon,  for  want  of  something  better  to  say. 

"Do  I  look  it?  Nit— I  ain't  so  old!  Say,  I'm  only 
sweet  sixteen  and  I  ain't  stringing  you  either." 

"Sixteen!  yes,  she  must  be   the    very    same,"    thought 


BEHIND   THE  SCENES.  155 

Guyon.     Then   aloud:   "Mr.    Barclay   introduced  you   to 
me,  because  I  had  told  him  that  I  wished  to  know  a  chorus 

girl." 

"How  kind  of  you !"  replied  Daisy,  favoring  Guyon  with 
one  of  her  sweetest  smiles.  "Gee,  but  he's  heaps  hand 
somer  than  Barclay ;  I  wonder  if  he's  rich !" 

"I  had  a  reason  in  wishing  to  know  a  chorus  girl,"  con 
tinued  Guyon. 

'"Doubtless,"  Daisy  replied,  lowering  her  eyes.  "You 
swell  chaps  generally  do." 

"Don't  misunderstand  me,  Miss  Dimples.  Look  at  me 
closely.  Can't  you  recall  having  seen  me  before?" 

"Seen  you  before?  Nit,  never!  If  I  did,  I'd  know 
it.  Yours  ain't  a  face  to  pass  out  of  a  gal's  mind  quick, 
sir." 

"I  wish  to  Heaven  your  words  were  true !  But,  tell  me, 
do  you  remember  anything  of  your  early  years,  when  you 
lived  in  Cherry  Street?" 

"What're  you  giving  me  now?  Who's  been  telling  you 
that  fairy  tale?  Nit,  sir,  I  never  lived  there.  There 
is  some  mistake,"  exclaimed  Daisy,  her  clear  complexion 
flushing  a  deep  crimson,  and  her  eyes  fairly  dancing  with 
excitement. 

"Do  you  mean  to  say  that  you  are  not  the  little  girl  who 
lived  with  the  old  apple  woman,  Mrs.  O'Shaughnessy  ?  Can 
you  forget  a  lad  down  there  named  Biglin  ?" 

"You've  got  me  now,  sir,"  cried  Daisy,  breaking  down. 
"You've  got  me.  I  never  thought  it  would  all  come  up 
again.  I  didn't  think  any  one  would  remember  me  when 
I  came  up  here.  Poor  old  Shaughnessy,  and  Swipsie!" 
and  for  a  moment,  it  seemed  as  though  the  better  side  of 
the  girl's  nature  was  touched;  then,  with  a  change  as 
sudden  as  the  approach  of  an  April  shower,  she  looked 
at  Guyon  with  a  haughty  air  and  a  glance  of  defiance  was 


156  A  GENTLEMAN  BORN. 

in  her  eye.     "Well,  what  of  it  ?    What's  it  all  to  you,  I'd 
like  to  know?" 

"Very  much,  if  you  will  hear  all  that  I  have  to  say." 

"Haven't  time  now — must  go  on  in  a  minute;  besides, 
there  is  Barclay  watching  us." 

"Where  can  I  see  you?"  exclaimed  Guyon,  fearing  lest 
the  golden  opportunity  of  reclaiming  Dimples  was  elud 
ing  his  grasp. 

"Do  you  really  want  to  see  me  privately?" 

"Yes,  there  is  something  I  wish  to  say  to  you  which  con 
cerns  you  deeply." 

"If  you  are  in  earnest  ahout  it,  you  may  come — no,  you 
can't  either,  it  wouldn't  do, — I  must  go  on  now.  S'long, 
Mr.  McCarty.  I'll  think  over  what  you've  said,  and  maybe 
I'll  let  you  know  later  where  you  can  meet  me  to-morrow ; 
and  mind,  don't  say  a  word  to  Mr.  Barclay  about  this." 

One  act  succeeded  another  with  interruptions  of  about 
ten  minutes,  during  which  Guyon  found  no  opportunity 
of  conversing  with  Dimples  alone.  In  fact,  she  seemed 
to  avoid  him,  mingling  in  the  throng  with  the  other  girls, 
or  chatting  aside  with  Barclay.  Apparently  their  conver 
sation  was  of  a  serious  nature,  for  often  the  louder  sounds 
from  their  direction  called  forth  a  rebuke  from  the  omni 
present  manager. 

Then,  too,  Guyon  had  occasion  to  note  many  points 
about  the  stage,  how  the  scenes  were  taken  off  or 
shifted  to  one  side  instead  of  being  raised  above  or  low 
ered  beneath  the  stage,  this  being  necessitated  by  the  limi 
tations  of  space,  and  by  the  fact  that  the  stage  of  the 
roof-garden  was  immediately  above. 

At  the  conclusion,  while  they  were  waiting  for  the  girls 
to  reappear  from  their  dressing-rooms,  Barclay  sounded 
Guyon  as  to  the  impression  Dimples  had  produced  upon 
him. 


BEHIND  THE  SCENES.  157 

"Daisy  is  straight  goods,  now,  isn't  she?" 

"She  seems  to  be  a  fair  specimen  of  her  class.  Are  you 
well  acquainted  with  her?" 

"Yes,  pretty  well.  She  is  a  strange  girl;  but  I  want 
you  to  know  her  better.  Are  you  satisfied  with  your  ex 
perience  to-night?" 

"Not  quite,"  was  the  rejoinder. 

"Oh,  that  means  that  you  desire  more!  Well,  I  have 
arranged  a  little  supper  party.  Daisy  will  ask  two  of  her 
friends,  and  we  three  men  will  take  care  of  them.  Is  it 
agreeable  ?" 

"Perfectly,"  replied  Guyon,  reasoning  that  he  must  find 
an  opportunity  some  time  during  the  night  for  hearing 
Dimples'  decision. 

"Here  they  are !"  exclaimed  Barclay,  as  the  young  ladies 
made  their  appearance  at  the  entrance  while  Bracer,  who 
had  "chased  himself"  across  the  street  to  alleviate  his  thirst, 
showed  up  at  almost  the  same  moment. 

"Miss  Dolly  Bragg,  and  Miss  Lottie  Blossom,  this  is  Mr. 
McCarty,"  said  Dimples,  bringing  up  her  two  bosom  chums. 
"Where  are  we  going,  Mr.  Barclay  ?" 

"Say,  fellows,  I  know  of  a  dandy  place  not  far  away," 
chimed  in  Bracer,  "where  we  can  get  a  room  for  our 
selves,  everything  in  bon-ton  style,  as  good  as  Sherry's 
only  we  can  have  more  fun  in  this  place." 

"Why  riot  say  Sherry's?"  asked  Guyon. 

"What  do  you  say,  girls?"  queried  Barclay.  "We  put 
it  to  a  vote — Sherry's  or  the  other  place?" 

"Can  we  have  wine  and  anything  we  want  there  ?"  asked 
Dollie  and  Lottie  in  one  breath. 

"Cert' !     Nothing  strait-laced   about  it  either." 

"It's  a  go.  What's  the  use  of  wasting  time  talking  about 
it?"  broke  in  Dimples.  "We're  out  for  fun  to-night,  ain't 
we,  Mr.  McCarty?  No,  I  mayn't  walk  with  you;  Dollie 


]58  A  GENTLEMAN  BORN. 

is  lots  nicer  than  I;  and,  Lottie,  you  pair  off  with  Bracer 
— Mr.  Bracer,  I  mean." 

In  this  formation  of  line,  the  jolly  couples  (I  say  jolly 
for  even  Guy  on  was  soon  entering  into  the  sport  of  the 
thing  under  the  unresisting  guidance  of  his  pretty  partner) 
strolled  down  Broadway. 

It  was  the  time  when  all  the  theatres  are  sending  forth 
the  great  masses  of  humanity.  A  time  when  the  "call- 
man"  is  shouting  in  his  loudest  strains,  almost  bursting 
his  lungs  in  his  efforts  to  attract  the  attention  of  the  sleep 
ing  Jehu  on  the  coach  box.  A  time  when  coaches,  hansoms, 
and  coupes  are  seemingly  tangled  up  in  an  impenetrable 
mass  in  which  the  policeman  figures  with  little  success 
until,  by  some  untold  means,  the  tangle  rights  itself 
of  its  own  accord.  And  the  cable  cars !  standing  there  like 
so  many  inoffensive  creatures,  meek  and  tame  looking, 
with  only  an  occasional  clang!  clang!  bang!  bang!  by 
way  of  protest  to  the  slowly  moving  populace,  bidding 
them  "hurry  up."  Bless  your  soul,  how  they  hurry,  these 
easy-going  pedestrians!  No  need  of  a  second  invitation. 
"All  aboard,  move  up  in  front,  plenty  of  room!  Move 
quickly,  madam,"  to  some  aged  dame  who  can  scarcely 
totter  along.  Then,  the  meek  creature  starts  without  a 
warning,  and  the  crowd  of  theatre-goers  just  crossing 
Broadway,  rushes  back  only  to  be  met  by  another  meek-look 
ing  car  bound  south,  and  to  be  finally  pulled  out  of  the 
danger  by  the  ubiquitous  policeman.  So  they  come,  and 
so  they  go;  and  the  greatest  artery  of  the  metropolis  is 
beginning  to  thrill  and  throb  with  life. 

"I  want  you  to  be  bright  and  fascinating  at  the  supper," 
said  Barclay  to  Dimples  as  they  were  making  their  way 
down  the  crowded  thoroughfare.  "I  wish  you  to  interest 
Mr.  McCarty,  you  understand  ?" 

"And  gain  your  jealousy  for  my  pains?     I  saw  the 


BEHIND   THE  SCENES.  159 

way  you  looked  at  us  when  I  was  talking  to  him  between 
the  acts/' 

•''Bosh !  Bo  as  I  tell  you.  I  have  an  object  in  it — that 
is  sufficient." 

"Very  well,  only  don't  blame  me  for  anything  that  hap 
pens.  If  I  like  him  better  than  you,  and  he  has  lots  of 
dough " 

"Oh,  he's  rich  enough  as  far  as  that  goes." 

"Are  you  tired  of  me,  Barclay  ?"  whispered  the  girl  with 
just  a  touch  of  tenderness  in  her  tone. 

•'Tired  ?  ]^o,  hush !  Here  we  are  at  the  place,  I  guess. 
At  least,  Bracer  and  the  others  are  stopping.  Kemember 
what  I  told  you !" 

They  had  crossed  Broadway,  and  were  proceeding  east 
down  a  side  street,  when  the  halt  was  called  by  Bracer  and 
Lottie,  who  were  in  the  advance. 

"You  recognize  the  place  now,  Barclay?"  said  the  self- 
constituted  guide. 

"Certainly !  Do  you  think  I  was  ignorant  of  where  you 
were  taking  us?  It's  all  right." 

Entering  the  brilliantly  lighted  cafe,  they  passed  by 
several  large  rooms  fitted  up  in  exquisite  taste,  from  which 
came  sounds  of  revelry,  laughter,  and  the  clinking  of 
glasses,  telling  that  the  reign  of  mirth  and  pleasure  had 
begun.  Finally,  Bracer,  who  seemed  to  know  every  nook 
and  corner  of  the  place,  opened  a  door  at  the  end  of  the 
long  corridor,  displaying  a  room  of  smaller  proportions 
than  the  others.  A  flood  of  light  from  a  large  chan 
delier,  bristling  with  incandescent  bulbs,  which  was  sus 
pended  from  the  ceiling  over  a  table  which  would  com 
fortably  seat  six,  gave  the  room  a  glow  of  genuine 
hospitality;  while  the  American  Beauties  on  the  table 
produced  a  pleasing  effect. 

"You  people  make  yourselves  at  home,"  said  Barclay.     "I 


160  A  GENTLEMAN  BORN. 

shall  seek  mine  host  and  make  arrangements  touching  our 
entertainment." 

Coats  and  wrappings  being  laid  aside,  the  gay  party  en 
tered  into  the  spirit  of  the  occasion.  The  girls  chatting 
about  the  fellows  they  had  seen  in  the  audience  that  night, 
and  the  presents  they  expected  to  receive,  Bracer  inci 
dentally  twitting  them  upon  their  conquests  and  throwing 
in  many  a  silly  compliment;  while  Guyon  assumed  the 
part  of  a  spectator,  listening  to  the  conversation,  and  looking 
anxiously  for  the  moment  when  he  might  have  a  word  with 
Dimples;  pondering  in  his  heart  whether  she  considered 
him  also  in  the  light  of  his  two  companions,  a  gentleman 
who  sought  her  acquaintance  merely  for  pleasure  and 
amusement. 


AFTER  THE  PLAT.  161 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

AFTER  THE  PLAY. 

"TAKE  your  places,  lads  and  lassies  all,  the  refreshment 
will  be  served  instantly  if  you  aren't  too  slow  in  giving 
your  orders.  For  my  part,  I  have  anticipated  the  wishes 
of  the  majority  and  procured  a  couple  of  pieces  of  music 
from  the  orchestra  by  special  arrangement — how  about 
it?" 

"Glorious!  Just  the  thing!  Perfectly  grand!  Bar 
clay,  you're  a  darling,"  cried  the  girls  in  a  chorus. 

"Don't  be  too  sure  of  that  until  you  get  away  from  here," 
remarked  Barclay. 

"No,  girls,  don't  be  too  sure  of  anything,"  said 
Dimples. 

"Give  your  orders,  quickly!  we  don't  want  much,  just 
a  bite,  I  think.  You  know,  we  are  going  to  see  the  town 
to-night." 

"Are  we  ?"  asked  Dollie.  "How  jolly !  Say,  can  we  have 
some  blue  points  ?'' 

"And  lobster?"  chimed  in  Lottie. 

"Live  or  cooked  ?"  asked  Guyon. 

"Both — live-broiled,"  said  Bracer,  "and  a  cold  bottle 
or  two,  with  a  cocktail  for  a  starter ;  eh,  Barclay !" 

"Whatever  you  wish.  You  have  your  order,  waiter,  hurry 
the  service,  the  quicker  the  better." 

And  in  anticipation  of  a  goodly  "tip"  the  gentleman  of 
color  grinned  from  ear  to  ear,  as  he  literally  flew  from 
place  to  place,  if  you  can  imagine  a  colored  waiter  flying ; 


162  A  GENTLEMAN  BORN. 

until  the  "Manhattans"  being  imbibed,  and  the  half  shells 
despoiled  of  their  luscious  morsels,  the  merry  sextet  settled 
down  to  lobster  and  champagne. 

"Isn't  it  just  lovely?"  remarked  Dollie,  posing  a  bit  of 
lobster  daintily  on  a  fork,  and  displaying  a  pretty  little 
hand. 

"Jolly,  I  call  it,"  remarked  Dimples.  "Have  a  bit  from 
my  fork,  Mr.  McCarty?" 

"Let's  have  a  song,  Daisy!"  cried  Bracer,  who  was  just 
recovering  from  an  extra  large  piece  of  lobster  which  he 
had  surreptitiously  taken  from  Lottie's  plate,  and  like 
wise  from  a  sounding  box  on  the  ear  which  he  had  re 
ceived  for  the  theft. 

"A  song  in  praise  of  wine !  Fill  up  the  glasses,  waiter ; 
you're  too  slow  for  this  here  crowd !" 

"Where  are  the  musicians?"  asked  Dimples.  "Am  I  to 
sing  without  an  accompaniment?  That's  a  go!" 

"They  will  be  here  in  a  moment,"  Barclay  replied  as  he 
touched  the  electric  button. 

"Talking  of  Daisy  singing,  reminds  me  of  the  incident 
which  occurred  to-night,"  said  Dollie. 

"Hush,  not  a  word!"  cried  Dimples. 

"Oh,  the  boys  must  hear  it!" 

"Yes,  indeed,  we  must  and  will,"  exclaimed  Barclay. 

"Well,  you  remember  my  telling  you  about  Daisy's  being 
called  down  by  the  manager  during  the  first  act?"  said 
Dollie.  "Say,  I  wouldn't  have  had  it  happen  to  me  for 
anything.  There  we  were,  singing  away  in  the  opening 
chorus,  when  a  voice  came  from  the  gallery — it  was  just 
'Dimples'  it  said;  and  we  all  looked  up  there  and  saw  the 
oddest  fellow  you  ever  set  your  eyes  on;  a  regular  Bowery 
tough,  and  he  was  waving  his  handkerchief  at  us  and 
Daisy." 

"What  did  Miss  Dimples  do?"  asked  Guyon,  knowing 


AFTER  THE  PLA  Y.  163 

well  who  the  "Bowery  tough"  was,  and  desirous  of  learn 
ing  what  impression  Biglin's  presence  had  produced  upon 
the  girl. 

"You  are  too  fresh,  Dollie.  You  might  have  kept  that 
to  yourself,"  exclaimed  Dimples. 

"Gee  whiz !  you  wouldn't  mind  my  telling  it,  if  it  had 
been  a  swell  chap  in  one  of  the  boxes." 

"Maybe  I  wouldn't,  that's  different.  To  think  of  the 
impertinence  of  the  fellow  !  Of  course  he  didn't  know  me ; 
got  my  name  from  the  program,  I  suppose." 

"You  didn't  look  as  though  he  wasn't  acquainted  with 
you.  Why,  Mr.  Barclay,  she  just  turned  red  and  then 
white " 

"And  then  blue !"  chimed  in  Bracer. 

'•'Bet  your  life  she  felt  blue  when  the  manager  spoke 
to  her  for  not  singing,"  cried  Lottie. 

"It  was  all  because  of  her  chagrin  at  having  the  atten 
tion  of  the  audience  diverted  from  her  to  the  gallery.  I 
can  imagine  just  how  she  felt,"  said  Guy  on,  coming  to  the 
rescue,  when  Dimples  was  about  to  leave  the  table  in  a  fit 
of  indignant  rage. 

"Thank  you,  Mr.  McCarty.  You  are  a  gentleman  any 
way,  though  I  don't  know  much  about  you." 

"You  shall  know  more  of  me  later,"  he  whispered. 

"Now  for  the  song!"  cried  Bracer. 

"I  shan't  sing  to-night,  after  what  you  all  have  said 
about  me !"  exclaimed  Dimples. 

"Not  if  I  ask  you?"  queried  Guy  on. 

"Oh,  that's  different,  sir.     Do  you  really  wish  it?" 

"Yes,  please." 

"Here  are  the  musicians.  Are  you  ready  ?  Your  glasses, 
ladies  and  gentlemen !" 

And  Dimples  sang  in  a  fair  soprano  voice,  the  others 
joining  in  the  chorus : 


164  A  GENTLEMAN  BORN. 

"In  the  heart  of  this  goblet  fragile, 
How  the  frolicsome  bubbles  play, 
From  the  depths  of  its  fragrant  bosom, 
There  arises  a  rich  bouquet; 
That  lovingly  wreaths  its  aroma 
Your  passionate  senses  around, 
Till  you  live  in  a  world  enchanted, 
Where  golden  wing'd  visions  abound. 

Let's    drink!     Let's    drink!  Ah! 

"See  how  it  sparkles,  this  drink  divine, 
But  all  its  lustre,  your  eyes  outshine! 
See  how  it  sparkles,  this  drink  divine, 
But  all  its  lustre,  your  eyes  outshine!" 

When  the  last  words  of  the  chorus  died  away,  the  echoes 
of  the  jolly  song  seemed  to  linger,  thrilling  all  hearts  with 
joyous  mirth.  Then  Bracer  volunteered  to  sing  "Don 
Jose"  from  the  "Serenade,"  and  his  tenor,  although  some 
what  affected  by  his  many  libations  to  the  Goddess  of 
Beauty,  was  fairly  good,  the  lads  and  lassies  joining  lustily 
in  the  rollicking  chorus  of — 

"That  for  love!     Piff!     Paff! 
Let  her  go,  Piff!     Paff! 
'Tis  only  one  more  village  belle, 
Love's  a  bore!     Piff!     Paff! 
I've  girls  galore,  Piff!     Paff! 
My  motto's  ever,  Vive  la  Bagatelle." 

After  which,  the  girls  sang  together  a  pretty  chorus  from 
the  "Jolly  Musketeer." 

"Say,  we're  a  pretty  good  crowd,  take  it  all  in  all,  ain't 
we?"  said  Barclay. 

"Jolly,  I  should  say,"  replied  Lottie,  puffing  a  whiff  from 
a  dainty  cigarette;  "and  a  right  jolly  time  we  can  have 
when  we  start  in.  Talking  of  good  times,  you  fellows  ain't 


AFTER  THE  PLAT.  165 

in  it.  You  should  have  been  with  us  out  at  'Frisco  last 
year." 

"Don't,  Lottie!"  cried  Dollie.  "For  Heaven's  sake, 
don't  give  us  away  like  that." 

"Give  away  nothing!  What  was  there  so  awful  in  it 
anyway  ?" 

"By  Jove,  let's  have  it,  Lottie!  I'll  give  you  a  kiss  if 
you  tell  it,"  exclaimed  Bracer. 

"I  think  it  would  be  the  other  way  if  I  was  giving 
kisses,  sir,"  said  the  girl  with  a  saucy  toss  of  her  head. 

"Anyhow,  we  went  out  one  night,  after  the  show,  with 
some  chaps,  to  see  the  sights ;  and  where  do  you  think  they 
took  us?" 

*'jtfot  to  Chinatown?"  ventured  Guyon. 

"Hit  it  on  first,  sir.  Yes,  indeedy,  they  took  us  to 
Chinatown." 

"Now  for  a  story  of  the  spicy  kind.  Fill  up  again, 
waiter!"  cried  Barclay. 

"It  may  be  spicy  enough  to  hear  the  recital;  but  it 
wasn't  so  great  for  those  who  took  part  in  it,  was  it, 
Dollie?" 

"Not  by  a  jug-full !" 

"The  story;  let's  have  it!"  cried  Barclay,  pounding  on 
the  table  until  the  glasses  danced  and  jingled  merrily. 

"Well,  here  goes !  As  I  was  saying,  a  party  of  swell 
chaps  took  a  few  of  us  chorus  girls  out  after  the  play,  to  do 
the  city;  and,  of  course,  we  wanted  to  see  Chinatown; 
every  one  does  that  in  'Frisco.  Say,  Doyer  and  Pell 
Streets  here  aren't  in  it.  Talk  about  your  Joss  houses, 
and  restaurants,  and  opium  dens !  You  see  them  wide 
open  there — especially  the  dens.  Well,  we  were  going 
around,  and  came  to  one  of  those  dopey  places  where  the 
most  beautiful  girl  I  ever  set  my  eyes  on  was  lying  off,  hit 
ting  the  pipe,  and  no  one  near  her  but  two  of  the  ugliest 


166  A  GENTLEMAN  BORN. 

Chinamen.  She  didn't  seem  to  mind  them,  just  inhaled 
the  dope,  and  held  out  the  pipe  for  more;  and  when  she 
opened  her  eyes,  in  a  dazed  sort  of  a  way,  she  didn't  seem 
to  take  any  notice  of  us, no  more  than  if  we  weren't  there  at 
all.  Then,  one  of  the  fellows  dared  one  of  us  girls  to 
hit  the  pipe,  just  to  see  how  it  felt;  and,  sure  enough, 
one  was  that  silly  to  do  it." 

"Did  you  leave  her  there  alone  ?"  asked  Guyon. 

"No,  indeedy,  not  on  your  life  we  didn't.  We  stood 
by,  and  she  lay  on  the  little  bunk  affair  they  have  fixed  up 
in  those  places,  not  far  from  the  other  girl.  The  China 
man  got  the  pipe  ready,  and  she  smoked  it.  At  first  her 
color  changed  to  a  deadly  greenish  hue,  and  she  was 
frightfully  sick;  but  she  stuck  to  it,  and  little  by  little 
she  got  under  the  influence,  so  that  we  thought  she'd 
never  come  out.  Such  lovely  dreams  she  had !  She  was 
leading  star  in  one  of  the  swellest  theatres  in  London — 
her  name  was  on  everyone's  tongue — she  had  lovers  by 
the  hundreds,  Lords,  and  Dukes,  and  all  that; — the  cost 
liest  of  presents — in  a  word  she  was  a  queen  of  the 
stage !" 

"You  seem  to  know  her  dream  pretty  well,"  remarked 
Barclay. 

"Oh,  it  wasn't  she !  Don't  try  to  drag  it  out  of  her  in 
that  way,"  said  Dimples. 

"My,  no !  bet  your  life  it  wasn't  me.  Well,  she  came  out 
of  it  after  a  while,  and  we  were  about  tired  of  Chinatown ; 
so  we  went  to  a  swell  little  place  something  like  this,  and 
had  a  little  supper,  some  wine,  of  course,  and  music;  and 
the  poor  girl — what  do  you  think  they  made  her  do  ?" 

"Not  dance  the  Couchee-couchee  ?"  asked  Bracer. 

"Not  exactly;  but  she  did  dance  something  almost  as 
bad,  although  we  did  try  to  persuade  her  not  to.  Do  you 
believe  it,  she  was  so  much  under  the  influence  of  the  dope 


AFTER  THE  PL  A  T.  167 

and  the  champagne  together  that  she  swore  the  next  day 
that  she  hadn't  danced  at  all;  but  it  got  in  the  papers, 
and  we  had  to  leave  the  place  two  days  later." 

"Capital,  capital!"  cried  Barclay.  "You  may  go  down 
as  a  first-class  story  teller.  Now,  on  the  dead  level,  did 
it  really  happen,  Lottie?" 

"Ask  Dollie,  if  you  don't  believe  me." 

"It's  true,  every  word  of  it,"  replied  the  lass  appealed 
to. 

"Say,  can  you  girls  give  us  a  specimen  dance  here?" 
asked  Bracer. 

"Not  on  your  life !"  they  cried  in  a  chorus. 

"What's  the  good  of  being  so  childish  about  it?  Ain't 
we  out  for  fun  ?  Come,  girls,  just  a  bit  of  the  ballet !" 

"Just  a  bit?  What  do  you  say,  Daisy?"  queried 
Dollie. 

"It's  getting  late  if  we're  going  anywhere;  but  if  the 
gentlemen  want  it,  I  suppose  there  is  no  way  out  of  it." 

"Tune  up,  you  fellows !"  cried  Barclay  to  the  musicians. 
And  the  waiter,  having  moved  the  table  to  one  side,  the 
girls  did  a  few  steps  of  the  latest  ballet.  Once  started, 
with  the  excitement  of  the  \vine  and  the  music,  they  seemed 
to  forget  that  they  were  not  on  the  stage,  an  incident  which 
was  a  source  of  much  amusement  to  Bracer  and  Barclay, 
while  Guyon  entered  into  the  spirit  of  the  fun  with  almost 
as  much  zest  as  his  companions,  although  he  did  not  ap 
plaud  so  vivaciously,  nor  join  in  their  shouts  of  "encore, 
encore!  bravo!  keep  it  up,  girls!  splendid  kicking!"  and 
the  like. 

"Why,  that's  almost  up  to  your  description  of  the 
'Frisco  dance,"  said  Barclay,  as  the  girls  finally  dropped 
into  their  seats  exhausted. 

"'Does  it?  That  shows  how  much  you  know  about  it. 
sir,"  replied  Lottie. 


168  A  GENTLEMAN  BORN. 

"I'll  wager  my  best  horse  that  you  cannot  do  the  'Frisco 
fandango,"  exclaimed  Barclay. 

"Wager  away!  it's  quite  safe;  for  neither  of  us  know 
it,  and  we  wouldn't  dance  it  if  we  did — so,  now!"  said 
Dollie. 

"Isn't  it  time  we  started  out?"  asked  Guyon,  who  was 
about  satiated  with  the  indoor  performance. 

"One  Curagoa  for  luck,"  said  Bracer,  "and  we  de 
part." 

The  girls  preferred  coffee  as  a  nerve  tonic;  and  the 
final  drink  having  been  taken  and  the  gentlemen  forti 
fied  with  a  cigarette  apiece,  the  party  sallied  forth  again 
into  the  streets. 

"What  do  you  say  to  Chinatown,  McCarty  ?"  asked  Bar 
clay.  "You  have  never  been  down  there,  have  you?" 

"No,  but  it's  rather  late,  isn't  it?" 

"Late  for  Chinatown  ?  That  shows  how  little  you  know 
about  New  York,  sir,"  said  Dimples. 

"I  confess  that  I  don't  know  much  of  this  phase  of  the 
life,"  Guyon  replied. 

"Never  too  old  to  learn,  eh,  girls !"  said  Bracer. 

"We'll  walk  down  Broadway  a  bit,  then  hail  a  car.  Is 
that  agreeable  ?"  asked  Bracer. 

"As  you  wish.  Is  there  anything  to  be  seen  on  Broad 
way  at  this  hour?"  queried  Guyon. 

"Keep  your  eyes  wide  open,  and  maybe  you'll  see  a 
whole  lot,"  replied  Dollie,  who  had  appropriated  Guyon 
as  her  escort,  Bracer  leading  the  way  with  Dimples, 
while  Barclay  brought  up  the  rear  with  the  irrepressible 
Lottie. 


WHEN  THE  CLOCK  STRIKES  TWO.  16$ 


CHAPTER  XX. 

WHEN  THE  CLOCK  STRIKES  TWO. 

"CAB,  gents !  Cab !  Show  you  all  the  sights  of  the  town, 
take  you  anywhere  yer  wants  ter  go  I"  was  the  first  greet 
ing  they  received  as  they  reached  the  great  artery  of  the 
Tenderloin. 

Broadway  at  this  hour  was  by  no  means  deserted.  True, 
the  theatres  were  closed,  and  the  pleasure-seekers  had  ap 
parently  dispersed  to  their  homes.  But  the  fashionable 
restaurants,  cafes  and  various  other  resorts  of  more  or  less 
questionable  character,  were  in  full  swing.  Cabs  and 
coupes  dashed  here  and  there.  Cable  cars  came  rushing 
along,  with  an  occasional  clanging  protest  to  the  auto 
mobiles  for  interfering  with  their  high  rate  of  speed,  or 
challenging  them  to  a  race.  Here  and  there  on  the 
corners,  stood  the  well-known  beggars,  familiar  figures, 
who  seem  never  to  sleep,  so  constant  are  they  at  their 
posts.  Now  we  see  a  single  pedestrian  wending  his  way 
homeward  at  an  unsteady  gait,  followed  at  some  distance 
by  a  couple  of  seedy  looking  individuals,  who  are  evidently 
awaiting  his  descent  into  one  of  the  dark  side  streets,  with 
sinister  intent  upon  his  diamond  shirt-stud  so  temptingly 
displayed;  while  an  officer  of  the  peace  passes,  gazing  in 
tently  in  an  opposite  direction.  Again,  it  is  a  group  of 
two  men  a  little  the  worse  for  their  after-theatre  supper, 
conversing  in  earnest  tones  with  a  woman  in  flashy  ap 
parel. 

"Have  you  known  Miss  Dimples  long?"  Guyon  asked 
of  his  companion. 


170  A   GENTLEMAN  BORN. 

"No,"  replied  Dollie1.  speaking  slowly,  as  though  medi 
tating  what  she  should  say.  "I  haven't  known  Daisy 
long;  she  only  came  to  the  Company  last  season  when 
we  returned  from  'Frisco.  Everyone  took  to  her  at  once, 
she  was  so  young  and  beautiful,  has  so  grand  a  figure  and 
not  a  bad  voice.  She  got  a  posish  first  thing;  and  they 
say  she'll  be  in  the  regular  caste  next  year." 

"Humph !"  said  Guyon,  "that's  all  you  know  about  her." 

"We  never  know  much  about  each  other  off  the  stage, 
sir;  only  Daisy  does  dress  better  than  any  of  the  girls, 
and  has  lots  of  jewels,  and " 

"Your  wages  are  not  great,  I  suppose?" 

"Great !  Well,  we're  not  laden  down  with  plunks  on  pay 
night,  1  can  tell  you." 

"Here's  our  car ;  all  aboard  for  Chinatown !"  cried  Bar 
clay,  as  a  down  town  cable  car  came  suddenly  to  a  stop  at 
his  bidding,  and  scarcely  waiting  until  the  last  of  the 
party  was  fairly  on  the  step,  started  off  again,  precipi 
tating  them  all  in  a  heap  on  the  floor;  at  which  the 
girls  were  in  a  high  state  of  indignation,  and  Bracer  was 
for  thrashing  the  conductor  there  and  then. 

It  was  a  comparatively  short  trip  to  Canal  Street,  down 
which  they  walked  to  Mott,  where  Guyon,  as  they  pro 
ceeded  at  a  quick  pace  for  a  few  blocks,  remarked  the 
scenes  he  had  formerly  visited  with  Biglin.  The  Italian 
quarter  was  now  deserted  save  for  a  few  dangerous  looking 
characters  who  prowled  about,  and  who  would  have  been 
very  undesirable  associates  for  a  single  individual. 

Further  on  the  scene  changed.  Chinatown  loomed  up 
with  its  chattering  throngs,  its  tea-stores  and  restaurants 
all  well  lighted  and  alive  with  groups  of  natives,  smoking 
their  long  pipes  and  hob-nobbing  in  their  strange  fashion. 
Sight-seers,  too,  were  there,  ladies  and  gentlemen,  passing 


WHEN  THE  CLOCK  STRIKES  TWO.  171 

and  repassing;  and  now  and  again  a  cab  rattled  over  the 
cobble  pavement. 

"Of  course  you  want  to  see  a  restaurant  and  sample  the 
Chinese  cooking?"  said  Barclay  to  Guyon. 

"Yes,  as  we  are  here,  we  may  as  well  take  in  all  that  is 
to  be  seen." 

"This  is  not  onr>  of  the  best;  but  it  is  a  fair  specimen 
of  its  kind." 

"Oh,  it's  a  horrid  place,  Mr.  Barclay!"  exclaimed 
Dimples,  as  they  traversed  a  room  on  the  first  floor,  the 
front  part  of  which  was  furnished  with  rough  board 
tables,  at  which  a  few  sailors  and  women  of  a  low  appear 
ance  were  sitting ;  while  in  the  rear,  was  the  kitchen,  where 
two  or  three  Chinese  cooks  presided  over  the  seething  cal 
drons,  the  floor  being  literally  covered  with  ashes  and  dirt 
of  every  description. 

"We  will  find  it  more  comfortable  on  the  floor  above," 
said  Barclay.  "Many  of  the  Chinamen  resort  to  this 
place  for  their  midnight  repast,  and  we  may  see  them  at 
the  festal  board  even  at  this  hour.  It  is  interesting  to 
witness  their  manner  of  eating." 

Sure  enough,  the  rooms  above  were  fairly  neat,  with  some 
pretence  at  cleanliness;  and  at  the  tables  were  seated 
gentlemen  and  ladies,  sight-seers  like  our  gay  party,  eat 
ing  their  chop  suey  with  evident  relish. 

"Do  let's  have  some  tea,  it's  grand !"  said  Dimples. 

"That's  a  come  down  from  champagne !"  muttered 
Bracer;  "but  you  can't  get  any  here,  not  even  water." 

"Get  some  chop  suey,  John,"  said  Barclay  to  the 
Chinese  waiter.  While  they  were  waiting  to  be  served, 
their  attention  was  drawn  to  a  table  near-by,  around  which 
eight  Chinamen  were  seated.  In  the  centre  was  a  great 
dish  called  Ching  Sow,  composed  of  the  finest  macaroni, 
shredded  chicken  and  onions.  This  was  flanked  with 


172  A  GENTLEMAN  BORN. 

large  bowls  of  rice,  and  some  small  curiously  shaped  dishes 
•in  which  was  the  sauce,  a  dark  brown  liquid  very  salty  to 
the  taste.  Each  Chinaman  was  provided  with  his  chop 
sticks,  and  the  meal  proceeded  in  absolute  silence,  a  purely 
mechanical  operation,  it  seemed,  as  first  one,  then  another, 
grabbed  a  morsel  from  the  dish,  dipped  it  into  the  sauce, 
and  conveyed  it  to  his  mouth. 

"Let's  have  chop  sticks !"  said  Dimples.  "Did  you  ever 
try  them,  Mr.  McCarty  ?" 

"No,  I  have  never  been  in  a  Chinese  restaurant." 

"That's  so,  I  forgot ;  but  it's  lots  of  fun." 

It  was  fun  indeed  to  the  uninitiated  to  attempt  to  ?eize 
a  bit  of  chicken  or  other  ingredient  of  the  chop  suey, 
certain  that  he  had  the  coveted  prize,  only  to  find  that 
his  sticks  were  empty  when  he  raised  them  to  his  lips. 

A  few  moments  in  the  restaurant  proved  more  than 
sufficient.  Leaving  this  place,  they  made  their  way  to 
the  Joss  house,  climbing  what  seemed  to  be  endless  flights 
of  stairs,  and  passing  along  hallways  buried  in  Stygian 
gloom;  but  when  the  door  of  the  temple  opened,  even  the 
"dim, religious  light"  from  the  quaint  lanterns, and  the  odor 
of  incense  burning  before  the  shrine  Avere  acceptable.  Guyon 
was  interested  in  one  exquisite  piece  of  carving  which  the 
custodian  appraised  at  one  thousand  dollars;  the  walls 
covered  with  Chinese  characters  representing  petitions 
of  the  faithful  to  the  immortal  Joss;  bits  of  tapestry, 
and  the  Shrine  itself,  a  genuine  specimen  of  Oriental 
workmanship. 

The  Council  Chamber,  where  the  secret  conclaves  of 
the  Chinese  Masonic  order  are  held,  was  next  inspected. 

"Do  let's  see  something  interesting!"  said  Dollie.  "It 
seems  to  me,  we  are  fooling  away  our  time  here." 

"What  is  there  more  to  be  seen?"  asked  Guyon. 

"There  is  the  Chinese  theatre,  for  one  thing." 


WHEN  THE  CLOCK  STRIKES  TWO.  173 

"Too  late  for  that,  it  closes  before  twelve  o'clock,"  re 
marked  Barclay. 

"How  about  an  opium  joint?"  asked  Bracer. 

"I'm  afraid  you  won't  see  one  down  here,"  replied 
Lottie.  "The  last  time  I  came  here  with  a  party,  we  found 
them  all  closed  as  tight  as  dungeons ;  and  we  couldn't  find 
u,  guide  for  love  or  money  who  would  open  one  for  us." 

"That  was  all  done  for  a  bluff,"  said  Barclay.  "I  am 
pretty  well  known  down  here,  and  I'll  show  you  the  real 
thing  in  operation  if  you  wish." 

"By  all  means,"  replied  Guyon. 

"Come  along,  then ;  only  don't  make  any  remarks  about 
anything  you  see.  These  fellows  are  fearfully  sus 
picious,  and  an  incautious  word  might  queer  the  whole 
game  for  us." 

Descending  again  into  the  street,  the  party  proceeded 
along  Pell  Street,  until  Barclay  stopped  suddenly  before 
a  building  similar  in  appearance  to  the  other  dilapidated 
shanties.  He,  leading  the  way  with  Dimples,  they  went 
down  some  steps  to  the  basement ;  and,  having  knocked,  an 
old  keen-eyed  Chinaman  appeared.  A  word  from  Barclay 
.gained  admission  for  his  friends;  but,  to  Guyon's  dis 
may,  the  door  was  securely  locked  and  bolted  after  them. 
A  narrow  passage  was  now  traversed,  the  only  light  glim 
mering  from  a  lantern  hung  from  the  ceiling;  then  they 
brought  up  suddenly  before  another  door  at  which,  in  re 
sponse  to  the  summons,  a  yellow  face  appeared,  scrutinizing 
the  intruders  gingerly.  Here  again  Barclay's  password  un 
locked  the  barriers ;  and  a  pungent  odor  of  burning  opium 
greeted  their  nostrils  on  entering.  On  one  side  of  the 
room  was  a  little  alcove  occupied  by  the  proprietor  who 
was  in  the  act  of  weighing  out  a  charge  of  opium.  Further 
along  was  a  curtain  which  hung  over  the  entrance  to 
the  "smoking-room,"  Passing  thither,  the  odor  of  the 


174  A  GENTLEMAN  BORN. 

opium  became  still  stronger.  The  room  itself  was  about 
twenty  feet  long  by  ten  in  width.  It  was  dimly  lighted, 
and  around  the  sides  were  platforms  or  bunks,  about  two 
feet  high,  covered  with  Chinese  matting,  or  an  ordinary 
American  mattress. 

On  one  of  the  bunks  were  two  Chinamen  smoking 
opium.  Indeed,  they  appeared  at  first  sight  to  be  the  only 
occupants  of  the  place. 

"Pshaw !  It's  not  near  so  interesting  as  'Frisco,"  mur 
mured  Lottie. 

"You  can  make  it  more  so  by  hitting  the  pipe  yourself, 
if  you  wish,"  said  Bracer.  "There  are  a  number  of  empty 
bunks,  as  you  see." 

"Are  there  no  young  women  here  at  present  ?"  asked  Bar 
clay,  addressing  the  proprietor. 

"Me  show,  all  lite,  one,  two!"  explained  the  man  of 
few  words. 

In  the  furthermost  end  of  the  room,  upon  a  bunk  of 
similar  size  and  construction,  lay  a  young  girl  of  about 
eighteen  years,  who  might  once  have  possessed  a  rare, 
fascinating  kind  of  beauty,  but  upon  whose  sallow  coun 
tenance  the  marks  of  an  early  vicious  career  were  too 
plainly  set.  Her  eyes  were  partly  open,  still  she  did  not 
appear  conscious  of  what  was  passing  before  her.  One 
arm  and  hand  was  tossed  above  her  head,  while  the  other 
grasped  the  pipe.  Near  her  was  an  older  woman  whose 
continuous  use  of  the  drug  had  reduced  her  to  a  drivelling 
hag.  She  was  now  completely  under  the  influence,  tossing 
her  arms  and  limbs  about,  and  muttering  all  sorts  of  strange 
and  incoherent  sounds. 

As  the  party  stood  looking  at  these  two  specimens  of  hu 
manity  reduced  to  almost  the  lowest  stage,  the  young  girl 
motioned  the  proprietor  to  give  her  another  pipe,  which 
be  proceeded  to  prepare  in  the  following  manner;  Tak- 


WHEN  IEE  CLOCK  STRIKES  TWO,  175 

ing  a  portion  of  opium  out  of  the  Hop  Toy,  he  twisted  the 
mass  until  it  assumed  the  shape  of  a  pill  on  the  end  of 
a  needle.  The  girl  eagerly  grasped  it  in  one  hand,  and 
took  the  pipe  in  the  other,  placing  her  lips  against  the 
end.  Then  she  brought  the  bowl  directly  over  the  flame  of 
the  fairy  lamp  which  was  placed  at  her  side,  holding  the 
"pill"  so  that  it  burned  in  the  flame,  at  the  same  time 
drawing  several  long  inhalations,  and  expelling  the  smoke 
through  her  nostrils. 

"That  is  all  there  is  to  it,"  remarked  Barclay.  "It  seems 
simple  enough,  doesn't  it?" 

"The  act  itself  is  simple,  but  the  effects,  if  this  young 
person  is  an  example,  must  be,  to  say  the  least,  demoraliz- 
ing." 

"That  depends  upon  the  person  who  smokes,  and  the 
frequency  of  his  hitting  it  up.  Now  you  or  I  could  do 
that  act  without  the  least  baneful  effect." 

"Do  you  think  so?"  asked  Guyon.  "Have  you  tried  it 
yourself  ?" 

"Many  a  time." 

"Have  you?"  exclaimed  Dollie.  "I  would  never  have 
thought  it." 

"Hush !  the  proprietor  is  looking  at  us,"  whispered 
Barclay.  "Yes,"  he  said  in  an  undertone,  addressing 
Guyon,  "I  have  used  the  drug,  and  I  can  assure  you, 
there  is  nothing  like  it  as  a  panacea  for  all  the  ills  of  life. 
The  sensations  are  most  delightful.  Just  look  at  the  girl 
now ;  see  how  she  smiles  in  her  dreams !  If  she  can  haV 
pleasant  visions,  what  may  not  your  own  be." 

"I  think  that  I  would  like  to  try  it  just  once,"  said 
Guyon,  feeling  that  in  this  indulgence  he  might  obtain  re 
lief  from  the  mental  torture  which  he  often  experienced 

"Nothing  is  easier,  old  fellow !" 

"But  I  would  not  care  to  do  it  in  this  loathsome  place." 


176  A  GENTLEMAN  BORN. 

"Come  aside  just  one  moment.  I  have  a  secret  which 
is  known  to  very  few  beside  myself.  You  will  not  betray 
my  confidence?" 

"I  give  you  my  word,  I  shall  not." 

"Well,  I  have  an  Oriental  nook  fitted  up  in  my  bachelor 
apartments,  where  one  may  enjoy  the  pleasures  of  the 
delicious  smoke  with  all  the  luxury  of  an  eastern  prince. 
If  you  care  to  try  the  thing,  this  place  of  mine  is  at  your 
disposal." 

"You  are  very  kind,"  replied  Guyon;  "I  shall  do  so  by 
all  means  as  soon  as  I  feel  the  need  of  it." 

"And  I  can  promise  you  that  there  will  be  a  pleasing 
surprise  awaiting  you." 

"Thanks!  The  thought  of  the  surprise  will  doubtless 
has , en  my  coming." 

"  What  are  you  men  talking  about  ?"  asked  Dimples,  com 
ing  over  to  them.  "Isn't  it  time  we  were  going?  The 
girls  are  almost  as  dopy  as  the  smokers  from  the  fumes 
of  the  opium." 

"We  shall  proceed  forthwith,"  replied  Barclay. 

Chinatown  being  left  behind,  the  party  again  sought  the 
Broadway  cable  going  up  town.  It  was  after  two  o'clock 
now;  still,  the  streets  were  not  by  any  means  deserted. 
Alighting  at  Herald  Square,  their  attention  was  at 
tracted  by  a  party  of  young  people  like  themselves  home 
ward  bound.  As  they  approached,  Bracer  recognized  Nor 
wood  and  another  young  chap,  and  Lottie  knew  the  girls 
as  soubrettes  with  whom  she  was  well  acquainted. 

"We  want  you  people  here !"  cried  Norwood,  in  unsteady 
tones.  "Been  having  a  jolly  time,  and  bound  to  wind  up ! 
What  do  you  say  to  the  Haymarket?" 

"Not  on  your  life !"  cried  Dollie. 

"Then  let's  have  a  dance  here  on  the  street." 

"Oh,  girls!"    cried    Lottie    to    her  soubrette  friends, 


WHEN  THE  CLOCK  STRIKES  TWO.  177 

"we've  had  just  a  grand  time;  but  you  don't  care  to  dance 
now,  do  you?" 

"What,  here  ?"  exclaimed  the  beauties.  "We're  not  such 
jays  as  these  fellers  take  us  for !" 

"Better  break  up  and  strike  for  home,"  said  Barclay. 

"Well,  if  the  girls  won't  do  anything  else,  I  suppose  it 
must  be  home,  sweet  home/'  said  Bracer  with  an  aggrieved 
air.  "only " 

"Only  a  cup  at  parting!"  suggested  Norwood,  "a  glass 
of  good  Pilsner  beer." 

"Good,  and  a  song  or  two,"  added  Barclay. 

The  sojourn  at  the  cafe  was  not  of  long  duration;  but 
Guyon  had  his  word  with  Dimples  before  they  left.  She 
had  avoided  him  purposely  during  the  night,  but  now  as 
they  were  parting,  she  came  to  him  of  her  own  accord, 
saying:  "I  haven't  forgotten  what  you  asked  me  about 
naming  a  place  of  meeting  for  to-morrow." 

"Thanks,  I  was  afraid  that  you  had.  Where  shall  it 
be?" 

"Barclay  mustn't  know  anything  about  it.  You  know 
where  the Cafe  is?" 

"Yes,"  replied  Guyon,  aghast  at  the  mention  of  the 
place. 

"Don't  be  shocked!  Meet  me  there  after  the  play,  on 
the  Q.  T.,  remember." 

''A  chorus!"  thundered  Norwood.  "Nothing  can  be 
more  appropriate  than  the  rousing  one  from  'The  Whirl 
of  the  Town/  " 

"Lobsters!  Rarebits!  Plenty  of  Pilsner  beer! 
Plenty  of  girls  to  help  you  drink  the  best  of  cheer; 
Dark  girls,  blonde  girls, 

And  never  a  one  that's  true; 
You  get  them  all  in  the  Tenderloin, 
When  the  clock  strikes  two," 


178  A  GENTLEMAN  BORN. 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

DAISY  DIMPLES. 

ALTHOUGH  Daisy  generally  had  no  dearth  of  gentlemen 
friends  awaiting  her  at  the  stage  entrance,  either  by  spe 
cial  appointment,  or  by  some  intriguing  on  their  own  part 
to  win  the  smiles  and  fascinating  glances  of  the  gay  chorus 
girl,  still  there  were  rare  exceptions  to  this  rule,  when  she 
wended  her  way  alone  to  her  well-appointed  flat. 

On  the  night  following  the  extraordinary  jollification, 
mindful  of  her  engagement  with  Guyon,  she  lingered 
longer  than  usual  about  the  dressing-room,  until  she  was 
fairly  confident  that  the  hangers-on  would  have  worn  out 
their  patience. 

She  looked  prettier  than  usual,  for  she  was  mindful  of 
Barclay's  injunction  that  she  must  appear  at  her  best. 
The  wealth  of  flaxen  hair  was  set  off  by  a  large  picture 
hat,  and  her  costume,  with  a  well-fitting  jacket,  was  cer 
tainly  stunning  in  effect.  Her  complexion,  too,  after  the 
excitement  of  the  performance,  required  no  embellishment 
to  heighten  its  color.  "Well,  I  guess  I'll  do  for  this  once !" 
was  her  comment  to  her  reflection  in  the  mirror,  as  she  gave 
the  last  touches  to  her  costume,  and  ad  justed  her  gloves.  "I'd 
like  to  know  what  Barclay's  game  is,  wanting  me  to  exercise 
my  charms  over  this  man.  Can't  be  that  he  wants  to  trump 
up  a  quarrel  over  me !  Heigho !  let  them  fight  it  out,  if 
they  wish — I  ain't  so  madly  in  love  with  him  that  I  can't 
throw  him  over  for  McCarty  if  he  wants  me.  I  wonder  if 


DAISY  DIMPLES.  179 

he's  as  rich  as  they  say?  I'm  afraid  he  isn't  the  kind  of 
stuff  to  fall  in  love  with  a  lass  like  me." 

With  her  thoughts  on  this  or  a  similar  strain,  Dimples 
emerged  from  the  stage  entrance.  The  mass  of  theatre 
goers  had  greatly  thinned  out  now.  Only  a  few  stragglers 
hung  around,  with  no  apparent  object  saving  that  which 
idlers  usually  have,  of  watching  for  something  of  interest 
to  turn  up.  And  that  indeed  did  appear  in  Dimples.  She 
was  conscious  of  attracting  an  unusual  amount  of  admira 
tion  in  the  way  of  rude  staring ;  so  she  hurried  on,  and  was 
just  blessing  her  stars  that  she  had  escaped  without  being 
spoken  to,  when  she  felt  a  touch  at  her  elbow.  Turning, 
she  beheld  a  strange  woman  whom  she  had  often  noticed 
at  the  theatre,  andof  whom  she  had  spoken  to  Barclay  on  the 
previous  night. 

"What  do  you  want  ?  You  have  given  me  such  a  fright," 
she  exclaimed. 

"I  beg  your  pardon,  Miss,"  replied  the  woman.  "I  just 
want  to  have  a  word  with  you." 

*'I  have  no  time  now.  Have  an  engagement — you  can 
see  me  here  any  other  night.  What  can  she  want  any 
how?"  thought  Dimples.  "She  is  no  beggar,  judging  by 
her  apparel." 

"If  you  knew  the  weight  of  sadness  on  my  heart,  you 
would  listen  to  me,"  said  the  other,  still  walking  at  Dimples' 
side. 

"What  have  I  to  do  with  that  ?  Do  you  want  money  ?  I 
can  help  you  in  that  way." 

"No,  child,  it's  not  money !     Do  I  look  like  a  beggar  ?" 

"Oh,  dear  no !  of  course  not ;  only  I  can't  see  what  else 
would  cause  you  to  accost  me  in  this  way." 

"You  cannot,  no;  for  you  do  not  know  the  feelings  of 
a  mother's  heart.  Have  you  a  mother  ?" 

"Ha !  ha !  that  i§  a  question..     Yes,  I  suppose  I  had  one 


180  A  GENTLEMAN  BORN. 

at  one  time  or  another.  Don't  know  anything  about 
her." 

•'And  your  father?" 

"Don't  know  that  I  ever  had  any,  although  that  must 
be  also  probable.  Why  do  you  ask  the  question  ?" 

"Listen  for  a  moment,  and  let  me  have  a  good  look  at  you 
here  in  the  light." 

"Don't  stop  here!  we  are  attracting  the  attention  of 
these  people.  I  am  well  known  in  this  vicinity." 

"An  actress?" 

"A  chorus  girl." 

"Well,  it's  all  the  same  in  the  long  run.  I  was  an  actress 
myself  once.  That  is  the  reason  I  come  around  here  at 
night  when  I  can't  stand  it  any  longer  at  home.  I  come 
to  see  you  young  girls  coming  out  from  the  stage  entrance, 
just  as  I  used  to,  when  I  was  as  gay  and  sprightly  as  any 
of  you." 

"I  don't  see  how  that  concerns  me,"  said  Dimples,  be 
coming  tired  of  this  woman's  company,  and  yet  strangely 
drawn  towards  her.  Much  as  she  longed  to  "shake  her," 
there  was  some  mysterious  power  which  held  her  as  though 
under  a  spell. 

"Of  course  you  can't  until  I  explain.  I  had  a  child 
once,  a  beautiful  baby  girl;  and  I  was  forced  to  abandon 
her,  give  her  up  to  what  I  thought  a  certain  death  on  the 
streets.  Since  that  time,  my  life  has  been  a  burden  to 
me.  Often  I  have  been  on  the  verge  of  terminating  my 
existence ;  only  that  sweet,  innocent  face  of  my  child  would 
loom  up  between  me  and  my  darkest  thoughts,  until  one 
night  I  had  fully  decided  to  carry  out  my  plan,  and  came 
down  here  to  catch  a  glimpse  of  the  old  scenes — the  last 
that  my  eyes  would  gaze  upon ;  for  I  had  a  vial  of  poison  in 
my  pocket.  Then,  among  the  other  girls  who  came  out. 
I  saw  you.  Your  beautiful  face  attracted  me  at  once. 


DAISY  DIMPLES.  181 

You  are  the  image  of  my  own  poor  self  as  I  was  in  my  gin- 
hood  day  s,  only  much  more  beautiful.  You  saved  my  life !  It 
dawned  upon  me  that  perhaps  you  might  be  my  own,  my 
lost  one;  and  I  made  inquiries  about  you,  with  no  result. 
Tben  I  resolved  to  speak  to  you,  and  learn  from  your  lips 
if  you  remember  anything  of  your  infancy." 

"Your  tale  is  strange,  it  cannot  be  true!"  exclaimed 
Dimples,  her  interest  aroused,  and  her  pride  at  the  same 
time  rebelling.  "No,  I  don't  remember  my  mother  at 
all.  You  must  be  mistaken." 

'"'Ah,  no !  It  cannot  be !  Your  eyes  are  mine,  and  your 
forehead;  but  your  mouth — yes,  it  is  his!" 

'•'Whose?"  queried  Dimples. 

"That  I  cannot  tell  you  now.  There  was  a  mark  upon 
your  limb  by  which  I  could  surely  identify  you." 

"Are  you  certain  of  that?"  Dimples  asked,  being  con 
scious  of  the  selfsame  mark. 

"Positive." 

"Well,  here  is  my  card.  Come  to  my  apartments  to 
morrow — No,  let  me  see,  this  is  Thursday — make  it  Mon 
day  afternoon." 

"As  long  as  that?    Must  I  wait  all  that  time?" 

"Yes,  or  don't  come  at  all.  Suit  yourself,  madam.  If 
you  are  earnestly  searching  for  your  daughter,  and 
believe  that  you  have  discovered  her  in  me,  you  can  surely 
wait  that  length  of  time  when  there  may  be  a  chance  of 
proving  the  fact  in  the  end." 

"And  yourself?  Are  you  not  anxious  for  a  mother's 
love  and  a  mother's  care?" 

"No,"  replied  Dimples  coldly.  "I'm  not  looking  for 
her.  I'm  very  well  satisfied  as  I  am,  thank  you." 

"You  are  married?"  ventured  the  woman. 

"Perhaps  I  am.  It  does  not  concern  you  at  present, 
anyway.  I  bid  you  good-night." 


182  A  GENTLEMAN  BORN. 

"God  grant  that  it  is  not  as  bad  as  that !"  cried  Mildred ; 
for  the  woman  was  no  other,  "God  grant  that  my  sin  ha,s 
not  been  visited  on  my  child !" 

But  Dimples  passed  on  in  a  quickened  pace  to  the 

Cafe,  where  Guyon  awaited  her,  and  was  soon  lost  in  the 
crowd. 

Guyon  had  meanwhile  strolled  into  the  cafe  about  eleven 
o'clock,  thinking  that  Dimples  would  make  her  appear 
ance  in  a  very  few  moments.  Although  he  had  never  been 
in  the  place  before,  he  knew  it  by  reputation;  and  he 
could  not  but  think  it  strange  that  she  should  have  chosen 
this  place  of  all  others  for  their  meeting.  At  first,  he 
sauntered  into  the  main  saloon,  and  seating  himself  in  an 
out-of-the-way  corner,  watched  the  merry  throngs  coming 
and  going. 

I  was  fitted  up  in  imitation  of  a  Turkish  resort,  with 
Oriental  nooks  on  every  side;  while  down  the  centre  was 
a  double  row  of  divans  of  similar  fashion.  Many  colored 
incandescent  bulbs  lighted  the  room.  On  the  walls,  in 
strange  contrast  to  the  character  of  the  cafe,  were  paint 
ings  from  scriptural  subjects.  The  first  thing  that  Guyon 
noticed  as  he  entered,  was  the  strong  odor  of  Turkish 
tobacco,  which  he  found  arose  from  the  almost  universal 
custom  of  cigarette  smoking,  not  only  among  the  men, 
but  also  the  women.  Waiters  attired  in  Oriental  costume 
plied  their  trade;  and,  judging  by  the  number  of  orders 
they  received,  they  did  not  have  an  idle  moment.  What 
appeared  singular  to  him  was  the  number  of  women,  some 
young  and  pretty,  who  frequented  the  resort  unaccompanied 
by  an  escort.  He  remarked  that  by  some  unaccountable 
means,  they  generally  met  a  gentleman  friend  with  whom 
they  conversed  on  familiar  terms,  he  invariably  ordering 
cigarettes  or  drinks  for  the  party. 

While  he  was  witnessing  these   scenes,   and  gradually 


DAISY  DIMPLES.  183 

arriving  at  a  mental  solution  of  them,  the  time  passed  by 
and  no  Dimples  came.  He  was  congratulating  himself 
also  upon  having  chosen  a  corner  where  he  would  not  at 
tract  the  attention  of  the  damsels,  when  one  of  them  ap 
proached  and  seated  herself  at  his  side. 

"I  don't  remember  having  seen  yon  here  before,"  she 
said.  "Are  you  a  stranger  in  the  city?" 

"No,  but  this  is  my  first  visit  to  the Cafe." 

"Just  to  see  what  it's  like?  You  are  doing  the  town, 
I  suppose?'' 

"No,  I  am  waiting  for  some  one  here." 

"How  nice !     T  wonder  if  I  know  her?" 

"I  scarcely  think  so." 

"Humph!  Ah — do  you  smoke?  Have  you  a  cigar 
ette?" 

"No,  but  I  will  order  some,  if  you  wish.  Will  you 
drink?" 

"Bet  your  life !  Just  a  little  whisker,  waiter — same  as 
before,  you  know." 

"You  are  here  every  night,  I  suppose?"  Guyon  re 
marked,  determined  to  make  the  best  of  the  situation, 
and  learn  a  little  of  the  life  of  these  people  if  he  could. 

"Cert' !  Every  night,  rain  or  shine,  it's  the  Haymarket, 
the  White  Elephant,  Bohemia,  or  one  of  these  places,  you 
know." 

"Don't  you  ever  weary  of  this  life?" 

"Sometimes,  yes;  but  what  can  a  girl  do?  My  people 
would  fall  dead  if  they  knew  I  was  about  town.  They 
are  pretty  well  fixed  down  in  Maine." 

"How  did  you  come  here  ?"  Guyon  asked. 

"Oh,  I  was  tired  of  the  old  place.  The  lads  were  too 
slow  there  for  me, — town  too  narrow.  Came  to  New  York 
to  work.  Got.  a  job  making  neckties  like  you  gents  wear. 
Starvation  wages.  I  liked  dress  and  good  times — drifted 
up  here !  Short  story,  isn't  it  ?" 


184  A  GENTLEMAN  BORN. 

"Haven't  you  heard  from  your  people  since  you  came 
to  this  city?" 

"At  first  I  did.  Then  they  lost  track  of  me.  Maybe 
they're  dead,  I  don't  know." 

"Perhaps  they  think  you  are!  Don't  you  ever  think 
of  your  Mother,  how  good  she  was  to  you,  and  of  how  much 
better  it  would  be  for  you  to  be  back  with  them  again, 
even  with  the  slow  life  at  home?" 

"See  here,  sir!  I  ain't  out  to  be  preached  at;  and  I 
didn't  take  you  for  the  preacher  sort.  Come,  now !  you're 
out  for  a  good  time,  ain't  you?  Come  along  with  me. 
and  let's  make  a  night  of  it." 

"No,  I  have  another  engagement.  If  I  had  not,  I  should 
not  be  here  to-night." 

"Heigho !  it's  a  case  of  the  other  gal,  is  it  ?  Well,  just 
give  me  a  plunk  for  good  luck." 

"With  pleasure, — good-night." 

"She  has  a  pretty  face,  so  young,"  thought  Guyon,  "and 
yet  so  deeply  immersed  in  the  sea  of  sin.  Poor  lass! 
perhaps  she  is  not  altogether  to  blame.  Who  can  fathom 
the  freaks  of  nature  tossing  her,  full  of  life,  pining  for 
fun  and  pleasure,  in  the  midst  of  an  old-fashioned  farmer's 
household?  Is  she  to  be  censured  for  leaving  it?  Then, 
too,  the  pity  of  it,  there  is  the  condition  of  young  girls 
earning  their  own  livelihood  in  our  large  cities.  Their  wages 
pinched  and  cramped.  Energy  and  life  squeezed  out  of 
them  by  means  of  the  lengthy  hours  and  constant  applica 
tion — surely  there  is  something  wrong!  Surely  deep, 
deadly  injuries  are  perpetrated  every  day  by  men  who  use 
these  poor  wage-earners  as  a  means  to  the  acquisition  of 
wealth,  heedless  of  the  temptations  to  which  they  are  ex 
posing  them,  caring  as  little  whence  they  come  or  whither 
they  go,  as  though  they  were  so  many  beasts  of  burden  or 
senseless,  inanimate  things." 


IN  THE CAFE.  185 


CHAPTEK  XXII. 

IN  THE  CAFE. 

WHILE  his  reverie  was  shaping  itself  in  thoughts  like 
these,  Guyon  was  unconscious  that  a  young  lady  had  entered 
the  cafe,  and  that  the  eyes  of  the  men  were  fixed  at  once 
upon  the  new  star  which  had  arisen  in  the  firmament  of 
the  Tenderloin,  whilst  the  women  stared,  and  put  forth 
their  best  endeavors  to  draw  away  the  attention  of  the 
men.  At  the  sound  of  his  name,  he  arose,  to  find  Dimples 
standing  before  him. 

"Were  you  asleep  or  dreaming?"  she  asked,  smiling  at 
him  prettily. 

"Neither.  I  was  just  indulging  in  a  bit  of  moralizing 
relative  to  the  denizens  of  the  place.  You  are  late/' 

"Yes,  I  was  unavoidably  detained.  Let  us  go  up  stairs — 
there  are  not  BO  many  people,  and  we  shall  not  be 
annoyed." 

"Why  have  you  selected  this  place?"  Guyon  asked,  as 
they  moved  out  of  the  room.  "You  surely  don't  frequent 
the Cafe?" 

"I?  Oh,  dear  no!  But  I  have  been  here  with  Mr. 
Barclay  and  some  of  the  boys  just  to  see  how  it  looks,  and 
I  wished  you  to  see  it.  Say,  did  any  of  the  girls  speak 
to  you?" 

"Yes,  one  of  them." 

"I  thought  they  would.  Any  one  would  think  you  were 
dead  easy  until  they  knew  you.  Then  you  are  handsome 


]86  A   GENTLEMAN  BORN. 

and  well-dressed,  all  that  attracts  the  girls  as  a  flower 
draws  the  bees." 

"Indeed !" 

"Yes.  Here  is  a  cozy  nook,  a  real  Turkish  corner,  with 
the  dim  light  from  the  lanterns,  and  with  hangings  around. 
Don't  you  think  it  is  lovely  up  here  ?" 

"It's  comfortable;  only  I  wish  that  the  colored  fellov:s 
would  stop  singing  and  twanging  away  at  the  guitar." 

"That's  part  of  the  entertainment,  you  know — do  yon 
mind  if  I  smoke  ?" 

"Why,  no!  shall  I      der  anything  else?" 

"A  creme  de  menthe,  please." 

"You  avoided  me  the  other  night,"  Guyon  began,  tifter 
the  cigarettes  had  been  lighted,  and  the  beverage  had  beer, 
served. 

"Do  you  think  so?  That  was  a  part  of  my  little  plan. 
I  was  afraid  you  would  run  away  and  miss  the  sport  if  I 
spoke  to  you  before." 

"Why  should  I  ?  Do  you  think  that  I  am  of  so  serious  a 
temperament  that  I  cannot  enjoy  genuine  amusement?" 

"Well,"  replied  Dimples,  "I  don't  know,  but  I  really 
thought  you'd  like  something  on  a  higher  scale  better. 
Wouldn't  you?" 

"I  confess  that  I  would;  still  I  was  pleased  to  go  to 
the  full  length  while  you  were  of  the  party." 

"Gee!  don't  say  that — T  couldn't  believe  half  of  it. 
What  did  you  want  to  say  to  me,  anyhow  ?" 

"I  wanted  to  tell  you  that  I  was  one  of  the  street  urchins 
who  found  you  under  the  Bridge,  where  you  had  been 
left,  a  little  infant,  about  two  years  of  age." 

"You  said  last  night  it  was  Biglin.  How  you  know  about 
him,  I  can't  tell ;  but  when  you  say  that  you,  a  swell  chap 
and  a  rich  one,  too,  was  a  street  boy  once,  that's  a  string 
for  fair!" 


IN  THE CAFE.  187 

"No,  it  isn't.  1  think  I  can  bring  you  along  with  me  in 
my  story  far  enough  to  throw  convincing  light  upon  the  tale. 
Although  I  must  confess  that  I  cannot  blame  you  for 
doubting  it.  I  first  met  Biglin — Swipsie  we  called  him 
then — on  the  refuse  dumps,  where  I  was  picking  cinders 
and  rags  with  other  Italian  children." 

"But  you  wasn't  an  Italian?" 

"No.  I  came  among  them  in  a  mysterious  manner  which 
I  have  never  been  able  to  discover.  However,  as  I  said, 
I  met  Biglin  there  first;  then  I  drifted  into  other  parts 
of  the  city,  and  lost  sight  of  him  for  a  few  years;  when 
one  night  I  came  upon  him  again,  and  he  took  me  with  him 
down  to  Cherry  Street  to  live  with  his  old  grandmother. 
It  was  there  I  first  saw  Mrs.  O'Shaughnessy.  One  night 
we  had  sold  our  papers,  and  were  making  our  way  home. 
I  heard  a  cry  coming  from  under  the  arches  of  the  Bridge 
where  we  were  passing.  We  stopped  to  investigate,  and 
found  you,  a  little  baby  lass,  dressed  in  the  finest  linen, 
and  almost  frozen  to  death.  We  took  you  to  the  old  apple- 
woman's  abode,  where  Biglin  tells  me  you  remained  until 
the  old  woman  died." 

"No,  not  until  she  died,  but  until  I  ran  away,"  cor 
rected  Dimples. 

"Meanwhile,  I  was  adopted  by  an  old  English  dealer  in 
curiosities  living  on  Pearl  Street,  and  from  there  I  came 
to  the  home  of  Mr.  McCarty,  the  Contractor.  He  sent 
me  to  school,  treated  me  as  his  own  son  and  heir,  sent  me 
to  the  University  of  Plarvard,  and  I  came  out  the  polished 
gentleman  you  behold." 

"Did  you  ever  see  me  after  you  took  me  to  Mrs. 
O'Shaughnessy's?"  asked  Dimples. 

"Yes,  I  did,  often;  and  thought  there  was  nothing  like 
you  under  the  sun,  until  I  came  up  here  and " 


188  A   GENTLEMAN  BORN. 

"And  when  you  became  a  fine  gentleman,  with  all  your 
learning  and  swell  manners,  you  forgot  Dimples?" 

"That  is  the  truth,  plain  and  unvarnished.  I  forgot 
you  as  clearly  as  though  you  had  not  existed  until  Biglin 
mentioned  your  name  a  month  or  so  ago/' 

"What  is  Biglin  doing  now?  How  did  you  happen  to 
meet  him?" 

"He  is  our  foreman,  a  steady,  good  young  man." 

"Humph!  I  can't  see  anything  so  great  in  it  all,  sup 
posing  it  is  true!  And  you  wanted  to  see  me  when  you 
heard  that  I  had  grown  to  be  a  pretty  young  girl,  and  was 
in  the  theatre ;  what  of  it  ?  What  do  you  want  of  me  ?" 

"I  am  coming  to  that  point,  Dimples.  Mark  what  I  say. 
You  and  I  are  strangely  in  the  same  condition.  Both  of 
us  are  ignorant  of  our  origin;  while  there  seems  to  be  no 
chance  of  my  ever  discovering  my  own,  why  should  I  not 
assist  you,  whom  I  once  rescued,  in  finding  yours?" 

"You  can't  do  that,  sir.  I  don't  want  my  parents — 
don't  believe  they  are  any  good,  if  they  are  living." 

"Are  you  satisfied  in  your  present  position  ?"  he  asked. 

"If  you  mean  the  stage,  I  am.  Yes,  I  love  it ;  I  believe 
that  the  life  was  born  in  me,  for  it  is  so  much  a  part  of  me 
that  I  couldn't  get  along  without  it ;  not  that  I  am  obliged 
to  follow  it  for  a  living." 

"If  you  desire  to  continue  on  the  stage,  I  may  be  able  to 
assist  you  to  your  advancement." 

"You  are  very  kind,  still  I  must  decline  to  accept  your 
offer." 

"Why?  may  I  ask." 

"Because,  for  one  reason,  I  have  numerous  friends  who 
are  able  to  help  me,  if  I  wished  to  call  upon  them;  but 
I  believe  that  I  shall  rise  in  the  profession  without  any 
outside  aid." 

"I  can  applaud  that  resolution.     It  shows  a  spirit  of 


IN  THE CAFE.  189 

independence  which  is  commendable.     Now  for  the  other 
reason." 

"Just  light  another  cigarette  for  me — thank  you !  Don't 
you  enjoy  the  odor  of  Turkish  tobacco?" 

"Very  much.     You  smoke  like  an  adept." 

"Do  I?  Well,  I'm  fond  of  it.  There's  nothing  like 
a  cigarette  to  tone  up  the  nerves." 

"You  have  not  given  me  your  second  reason  for  refusing 
my  services." 

"Well,  since  you  will  have  it,  mind,  you  have  brought  it 
all  upon  yourself,"  began  Dimples,  taking  a  dainty  pull 
at  the  cigarette  and  blowing  out  many  a  tiny  ring  from 
her  rosy  lips;  "you  have  confessed,  sir,  that  you  banished 
me  from  your  mind  when  fortune  smiled  upon  you.  The 
poor  little  girl  in  Cherry  Street  might  get  along  as  best  as 
she  could,  might  go  to  the  Devil  for  all  you  cared.  Now, 
you  suddenly  discover  that  I  am  quite  the  rage  among 
your  swell  set — you  offer  to  assist  me  in  various  ways,  with 
what  object  in  view  ?  Possibly  to  gain  some  hold  upon  me 
for  your  own  ends  and  purposes." 

"Can  you  think  so  ill  of  me,  Miss  Dimples?" 

"I  have  no  special  reason  for  thinking  good  of  anyone; 
but  let  us  drop  all  this  bluffing!  Say,  Mr.  McCarty,  I'll 
be  your  friend,  if  you  wish." 

"I'll  take  you  at  your  word,  Miss  Dimples,"  replied 
Guyon,  thinking  that  perhaps  an  opportunity  for  helping 
the  girl  might  arise  if  he  at  least  kept  her  in  sight. 

"You  are  very  rich,  ain't  you?  Almost  as  rich  as  Mr. 
Barclay?"  was  the  next  unexpected  remark. 

"Perhaps  so.  What  of  it?  And  how  do  you  know  of 
Mr.  Barclay's  wealth?" 

"Oh,  everyone  knows  that!  He  gives  lots  of  presents 
to  us  girls." 


190  A  GENTLEMAN  BOMH. 

"Does  he? — I  wonder  if  he  does  not  expect  some  return 
for  his  outlay/'  thought  Guy  on. 

"I  bet  I  know  what  you  are  thinking  about;  you  con 
sider  it  strange  that  I  should  accept  favors  from  Mr. 
Barclay,  and  refuse  to  take  them  from  you.  Well,  it's 
different  with  him,  see  ?  He  thinks  a  great  deal  of  me." 

"You  don't  say  so !  Now  I  am  not  going  to  preach  to 
you.  I  tried  it  to-night  with  one  of  those  women  down 
stairs  and  failed  utterly;  only  I  want  to  say  this:  beware 
of  Mr.  Barclay's  intimate  friendship  and  affection!  No 
good  can  come  from  it  to  a  young  girl  in  your  position." 

"Sir,  have  a  care  how  you  talk  to  me !  If  I  am  young, 
I  am  not  so  green  as  I  look,  and  I'm  well  able  to  look  after 
myself.  Perhaps  you  would  wish  me  to  transfer  my  in 
terest  from  Barclay  to  yourself;  how  about  it?" 

"I  have  not  intimated  so  much;  it  rests  with  you. 
Should  you  do  so,  however,  I  assure  you  that  neither  you 
nor  I  would  be  lowered  by  the  bond." 

"You  think  so!  Well,  we  shall  see.  It's  late  now;  I 
guess  we'd  better  leave  the  cafe — will  you  call  a  hansom 
for  me?" 

"With  pleasure.     May  I  see  you  home?" 

"No,  that  would  never  do;  besides,  as  I  told  you,  I  am 
able  to  take  care  of  myself." 

"Shall  I  see  you  again,  Miss  Dimples?"  queried  Guyon, 
when  the  hansom  coming  up  at  his  call,  he  handed  the 
young  actress  into  the  vehicle  and  stood  there  a  moment 
on  the  curb. 

"'That  depends  upon  yourself.  Perhaps  you  will ;  in  fact, 
I  think  it  more  than  likely !  Good-night,  Mr.  McCarty." 

"Good-night,  Miss  Dimples.  Think  over  what  I  have 
said  to  you;  at  least  you  will  promise  me  that." 

'I  never  promise  anything — good-night !" 

And  the  hansom  rattled  off,  bearing  Dimples  to  her  well- 


AT  THE CAFE.  191 

furnished  apartments  on  Central  Park  west.  The  young 
lady's  mind  was  busily  occupied  during  the  short  drive. 
What  would  be  Barclay's  comment  upon  her  interview? 
She  knew  well  that  she  had  only  half  succeeded  with  Mr.  Mc- 
Carty.  "If  I  had  swallowed  that  little  burst  of  pride  which 
asserted  itself  upon  the  annoimcernent  of  his  proffered  ser 
vices,  perhaps  it  might  have  been  different !  But  one  can't 
stand  everything/'  she  reflected.  "If  he  had  been  more 
generous  in  his  offer,  set  me  up  in  a  grander  establishment 
than  this,  had  behaved  like  the  prince  in  the  fairy  tale, 
then  I  might — Heigho !  who  knows — I  wonder  if  he'll 
bother  his  head  about  me  again?" 

Alighting  at  the  door  of  the  fashionable  apartment 
house,  she  tripped  lightly  up  stairs,  humming  a  tune  from 
the  opera,  and  opened  the  door  to  find  Barclay  awaiting  her. 
ensconced  in  an  easy  chair  before  the  open  grate  fire  in  the 
drawing-room. 

"Oh,  you  here!"  she  exclaimed,  throwing  aside  her 
wraps  leisurely. 

"Yes.     Sit  down  in  your  accustomed  place." 

"At  your  feet?  Well,  here  I  am,"  Dimples  replied, 
dropping  upon  a  cushion  on  the  floor,  and  looking  up  at 
Barclay  with  an  expression,  half  fun,  half  resignation. 

"You  didn't  expect  me,  did  you?" 

"That  is  as  you  please,  you  know.  I  have  nothing  to 
say  about  your  coming  or  going." 

"I  have  been  looking  over  our  opium  outfit,  and  seeing 
that  everything  is  in  proper  shape.  You  will  have  a 
visitor  one  of  these  days,  you  know." 

"I  did  not  know.     Who  is  it  to  be,  may  I  ask?" 

"Your  friend,  Mr.  McCarty,  no  less — by  the  way,  how 
did  you  and  he  hit  it  together,  to-night?" 

"We  didn't  get  on  at  all.  He's  a  prig,  I  believe!  I 
don't  like  him  much  at  all." 


192  A  GENTLEMAN  BORN. 

"You  don't — ha,  ha !  that  is  curious !  Come  now,  did  he 
make  any  pretty  speeches  to  you  ?" 

"Not  much!  He's  not  that  kind.  Wanted  to  help  me 
find  my  parents,  and  when  I  refused  his  assistance,  wished 
to  assist  me  in  the  theatrical  business — he's  so  slow !" 

"Ye-es,  he  is  slow,  poor  fellow;  but  you  must  draw 
him  out.  There's  lots  in  him  if  he  only  knew  it." 

"Do  you  really  mean  that  he  is  coming  here  to  see  me  ?" 

"Well,  not  exactly.  He  wants  to  try  the  opium  smok 
ing;  doesn't  know  about  your  being  mistress  of  the  estab 
lishment  ;  that  must  dawn  upon  him  gradually,  you  under 
stand?" 

"I  see  your  game  now,  only  I  don't  understand  why 
you  want  to  injure  him.  Has  he  done  anything  to  you?" 

"Yes,  very  much,  more  than  I  can  tell  you;  but  that 
isn't  the  point.  Will  you  do  all  I  wish  in  this  instance  ?" 

"The  price?" 

"What  do  you  want?" 

"Oh,  a  great  many  things !  This  flat  is  too  crowded  and 
small.  I  want  an  elegant  house  where  I  can  entertain  my 
friends  in  style.  I  want  a  magnificent  turnout — and — 
and — I  want  you  to  promise  to  marry  me  some  tima" 

"Is  that  all?  You  are  very  modest  in  your  demands," 
replied  Barclay,  with  a  sarcastic  ring  in  his  voice. 

"Yes;  but  remember  you  have  placed  a  great  deal  in 
my  hands.  I  can  peach  upon  you !  I  can  destroy  the 
whole  plot." 

"The  Devil  you  can !  Well,  I  will  promise  anything  you 
want,  only  the  marriage  part..  You  know  that  is  impossi 
ble;  but  when  all  my  plans  are  completed,  you  shall  receive 
your  reward." 

So  was  the  ambush  laid  to  cleverly  ensnare  the  unsus 
pecting  Guyon.  And  the  bait  for  his  ruin  was  to  be  no 
other  than  she,  the  baby  lass,  whom  he  had  once  lescued 
from  a  certain  death. 


MBB.  BRANDON  ENTERTAINS.  193 


CHAPTEE  XXIII. 

MRS.  BRANDON  ENTERTAINS. 

TINGLE,  ling-a-ling!  goes  the  telephone  bell.  "Hello, 
dere  I"  cries  the  small  boy  in  the  office  of  McCarty  &  Son. 
"Say,  Central,  does  yer  take  me  fer  a  jay  er  a  farmer;' — 
a  good  little  boy !  dat's  a  jolly !  Hello,  sir,  yer  wants  Mr. 
McCarty;  well,  he's  flew  de  coop.  Bot'  out?  Nope.  De 
young  gent's  in;  does  yer  want  'im?  Hole  de  string! 
Gee,  dose  swell  mugs  does  gie  yer  a  pain  in  de  face !"  com 
mented  the  young  hopeful.  "Guess  he'll  get  tired  a-jollyin' 
while  'e  waits  fer  de  young  gent,"  he  muttered. 

"Mr.  McCarty,"  said  the  young  boy,  entering  the  private 
office  where  Guyon  was  sitting  perusing  the  morning 
paper,  "dere's  a  feller  as  want's  ter  talk  ter  youse  on  de 
'phone." 

"Why  didn't  you  bring  the  message  more  quickly? 
Look  alive  when  you  have  anything  to  say  here!"  said 
Guyon  impatiently. 

"Yes,  sir." 

And  Guyon  going  into  the  booth  in  the  outer  office,  found 
that  his  chum,  Harold  Brandon,  still  held  the  other  end 
of  the  wire.  "Hello,  is  that  you,  Hal  ?"  he  asked.  "Been 
waiting  five  minutes  ?  Dreadful  sorry — fault  of  our  stupid 
office  boy.  Don't  discharge  him  ?  That's  like  you !  You 
haven't  seen  me  for  some  time?  That's  a  fact.  I've 
been  out  on  the  old  quest,  or  I  should  say,  the  new  one. 
Will  tell  you  about  it  when  I  see  you.  What  did  you 
say? — Hello,  Central,  hello!  Now  you  have  cut  us  off! 


194  A  GENTLEMAN  BORN. 

No,  I  hadn't  finished,  please  be  a  little  more  careful — a 
good,  clear  wire  now!  Hello,  Hal!  you  were  saying, — 
oh,  the  invitation !  Yes,  I  received  it  in  this  morning's 
mail.  It  was  surprise.  A  musical  treat  and  dancing? 
Don't  care  much  about  it — haven't  made  up  my  mind 
to  go.  Your  mother  is  anxious  to  have  me?  That  is 
kind  of  her.  Well,  I'll  drop  in  some  time  during  the  night, 
can't  promise  when.  Couldn't  refuse  the  united  appeal 
or  your  good  mother  and  yourself !  Well,  good  bye  until  to 
night — good  bye !" 

The  regular  routine  of  office  business  had  gradually 
fallen  into  his  hands;  and  now  his  thoughts  and  attention 
were  soon  taken  up  with  other  things  until  evening  when, 
after  dining  at  home,  he  drove  over  to  the  Club,  thinking 
that  he  might  perhaps  meet  Harold  there,  and  learn  of  him 
something  more  definite  about  the  affair,  and  the  guests 
who  would  appear.  Disappointed  in  his  quest,  he  left 
the  place  pausing  only  in  the  reading-room  to  say  a  word 
to  an  acquaintance,  entered  his  brougham,  and,  after  a 
short  drive,  alighted  at  the  Brandon  mansion  about  half 
after  ten. 

"How  charming  in  you  not  to  arrive  at  your  usually 
late  hour,"  exclaimed  the  hostess,  as  Guyon  entered  the 
drawing-room,  where  only  a  fair  sprinkling  of  guests  were 
assembled,  their  brilliant  costumes  enchancing  the  wealth 
of  decoration. 

"Am  I  too  early?  I  came  direct  from  the  Club. 
Thought  I  might  meet  Harold  there/' 

"No,  indeed ;  I  could  not  spare  my  boy  to-night.  When 
one  hasn't  a  daughter  to  help  her  entertain,  the  next  best 
thing  is  to  have  such  delightfully  sociable  lad  as  Harold." 

"You  may  well  be  proud  of  him,  Mrs.  Brandon.  I  sup 
pose  you  have  a  great  surprise  for  us  to-night." 

"What  makes  you  think  so  ?" 


MBS.  BRANDON  ENTERTAINS.  195 

"It's  your  usual  way,  isn't  it?" 

"Well,  people  like  that  sort  of  thing.  Now,  if  you  won't 

breathe  a  word,  we  are  to  have  Signor ,  the  celebrated 

tenor;  and  Mme.  ,  the  contralto  soloist;  then  for 

pianist,  well — you  will  see  and  hear  him  later." 

"It  will  be  a  rare  treat,  Mrs.  Brandon.  I'm  more  than 
ever  delighted  that  I  have  come." 

"You  will  remain  for  the  dance,  will  you  not?" 

"If  you  desire  it,  I  cannot  refuse." 

"And,  remember,  don't  run  away  on  a  trivial  pretence 
as  you  did  from  trr  ball  at  Beaucliff." 

"I  don't  think  there  will  be  any  occasion  for  that." 

"There  is  Harold  now,  making  some  wig-wag  signals 
to  me  from  the  other  end  of  the  room — Oh,  he  wants  you 
to  go  over  to  him.  You  see,  he  is  entertaining  a  group 
of  young  ladies.  I  really  believe  that  Miss  Harcourt 
is  among  them;  you  know  Miss  Harcourt?" 

"Yes,  slightly ;  that  is,  I  met  her  once." 

"Run  over,  then.  I  will  keep  an  eye  on  you  during  the 
evening,  and  see  that  you  do  not  want  for  partners  in  the 
dance." 

"You  are  very  kind,"  murmured  Guy  on,  as  he  moved  off 
in  Harold's  direction. 

The  group  in  question  was  not  far  from  the  piano,  await 
ing  the  arrival  of  the  celebrated  performer.  This  part  of 
the  room  was  particularly  tasteful  in  point  of  decoration. 
Tall  sentinel  palms,  around  which  were  grouped  many 
smaller  varieties,  stood  on  either  side  of  the  magnificent 
instrument.  In  other  parts  of  the  room,  great  chrysan 
themums  of  the  rarest  kind  were  massed. 

"You  understood  my  signals  at  last,"  said  Harold  as 
Guyon  approached. 

"Yes,  or  rather  your  mother  interpreted  the  code  for 
me." 


196  A  GENTLEMAN  BORN. 

"You  have  met  Miss  Harcourt?" 

"Yes,  but  I  am  pleased  to  renew  the  acquaintance." 

"It  seems  ages  since  I  saw  you  in  Newport,  Mr.  Mc- 
Carty.  Whatever  have  you  been  doing  with  yourself?"' 

"Do  I  look  so  old  and  careworn?"  asked  Guyon. 

"Well,  no.  This  is  my  friend,  Miss  Nerecote,  and  this, 
Miss  Rushford." 

"Delighted!"  murmured  Guyon,  acknowledging  the  in 
troductions. 

"See,  there  are  the  Barringtons !  I  wonder  if  Lord  Rich- 
leigh  is  with  them,"  exclaimed  Miss  Harcourt,  while  the 
eyes  of  the  feminine  portion  of  the  group  were  strained 
in  the  direction,  to  catch  a  glimpse  of  the  lordling. 

"I  wasn't  aware  of  this  latest  addition  to  society," 
Guyon  remarked  aside  to  Harold. 

"If  you  went  about  more,  you  would  keep  better  posted, 
my  boy." 

"I  have  been  told  that  before.  Is  it  true  that  Barclay 
will  be  here  to-night  ?" 

"Yes,  I  am  sorry  to  say,  he  will." 

"There  is  Lord  Richleigh,  sure  enough,"  said  Miss  Rush- 
ford  ;  "and  with  Miss  Gordon,  too !" 

Gm<on  looked  for  the  first  time  at  the  notables  entering 
the  room,  and  saw  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Barrington  and  their 
Ward,  who  appeared  more  stunning  than  when  he  had 
seen  her  before.  His  recollection  of  the  ball  at  Beaucliff, 
and  her  delicate  beauty  set  off  by  the  exquisite  costume, 
was  banished  into  oblivion  as  he  gazed  upon  her  now. 
Her  eyes  were  sparkling  with  merriment  when  she  greeted 
the  hostess,  and  turned  to  say  a  word  to  the  gentleman 
at  her  side,  whose  appearance  well  supported  his  claim  to 
a  fabulous  ancestry.  Tall  and  coimnanding  in  stature, 
his  finely  moulded  features  showed  to  advantage  in  a  clean 
shaven  face.  He  seemed  fairly  interested  in  the  gathering. 


MRS,  BRANDON  ENTERTAINS.  197 

but  it  was  not  difficult  to  see  that  his  keenest  appreciation 
was  centered  in  Miss  Gordon. 

As  for  the  young  lady  herself,  after  the  first  greetings 
were  over,  she  moved  away  with  her  escort  to  where  some 
select  friends  were  sitting.  Passing  Guyon's  group,  she 
appeared  to  be  intent  upon  some  pleasantry  Lord  Rich- 
leigh  was  uttering;  for  she  noticed  neither  the  gentlemen 
nor  the  ladies. 

"So,  so!  my  fair  lass!"  murmured  Miss  Harcourt, 
"you  needn't  give  yourself  such  airs  if  you  have  caught 
an  English  Lord." 

"I  wonder  how  long  she'll  keep  him?"  suggested  Miss 
Nerecote. 

"Just  as  long  as  he  pleases  her,  perhaps,  unless  his  title 
wins  her  heart,"  replied  Mis  Harcourt. 

"You  ladies  are  too  ready  to  analyze  the  frailties  of 
your  sex,  I'm  afraid,"  ventured  Harold.  "Xow,  we  gen 
tlemen  stand  here  and  make  no  comment  whatever  upon 
the  passing  of  the  Belle  unless  it  be  to  conclude  that  she 
was  not  aware  of  our  proximity." 

"Isn't  that  Barclay  coming  in  now?"  queried  Guyon. 
anxious  to  change  the  subject,  for  he  felt  that  his  being  in 
the  group  had  been  the  cause  of  its  receiving  the  aforesaid 
cut. 

"That  is  Barclay,  and  he  is  making  straight  for  the 
Barrington  circle.  I  admire  his  nerve,"  said  Harold  in  an 
undertone. 

As  Barclay  passed  with  a  smile  and  a  word  of  greeting. 
Mr.  Brandon  approached  with  a  gentleman,  who  im 
mediately  seated  himself  at  the  piano;  and,  waiting  a  mo 
ment  or  two  in  expectation  of  a  lull  in  the  conversation 
which  was  buzzing  throughout  the  room,  touched  the  keys 
— just  a  few  opening  bars  that  displayed  the  action  of 
no  mediocre  performer.  Chopin  seemed  to  be  his  favorite. 


198  A  GENTLEMAN  BORN. 

and  one  of  his  famous  Preludes  was  received  with  breath 
less  attention. 

Then  all  eyes  were  bent  upon  the  celebrated  contralto, 
who  appeared  in  an  exquisite  selection  from  "Die  Walkiire." 
It  is  needless  to  say  that  the  presence  of  the  far  famed 

Mme.  ,  whom  many  had  listened  to  on  the  operatic 

stage,  was  in  itself  a  grand  surprise;  but  when  her  clear 
notes,  softened  and  modulated  to  accord  with  the  environ 
ment,  were  heard  in  the  original  German  of  the  solo,  the 
guests  were  marvelously  affected.  Even  Lord  Richleigh 
was  heard  to  remark  that  he  had  attended  many  drawing- 
rooms,  but  had  never  been  more  charmingly  entertained. 
And  when  the  last  note  died  away,  the  applause  was  suf 
ficiently  flattering  even  to  the  performer. 

Whilst  the  professor  was  executing,  as  a  second  number 
a  favorite  Nocturne  from  Chopin,  Mrs.  Brandon  came 
up  to  Guyon's  group. 

"We  will  release  you  gentlemen  from  your  allegiance," 
she  said,  seating  herself  among  the  ladies.  "There  are 
so  many  who  are  asking  for  you,  Harold — Mrs.  Barrington 
has  caught  a  glimpse  of  Mr.  McCarty  and  nothing  will 
do,  but  he  must  join  their  set." 

"That's  just  like  you,  Mater ;  when  we  are  enjoying  this 
superb  musical  treat  and  the  interesting  companionship 
of  these  ladies  fair,  you  must  break  up  our  party." 

"Oh,  Mrs.  Brandon,  this  is  such  a  surprise,  and  such 
a  treat,  too,"  whispered  Miss  Harcourt. 

"Not  our  being  dismissed  from  your  society?"  ventured 
(ruyon. 

"No,  indeed — to  hear  these  men  talk, — they  are  per 
fectly  ridiculous.  I  mean  the  musical  entertainment. 
Chopin  and  Wagner  are  my  favorites." 

"And  mine,"  murmured  Miss  Eushford. 

"I  am  so  gratified  to  find  my  guests  enjoying  the  little 


MKS.  BRANDON  ENTERTAINS.  199 

surprise ;  but  you  are  no  doubt  anxious  for  the  dance  which 
uill  follow." 

"We'll  see  you  before  the  dance,  ladies,"  said  Harold,  as 
he  and  Guyon  moved  away. 

"And  I  trust  that  I  will  have  the  pleasure  of  a  dance 
with  each  of  you,"  said  Guyon. 

The  music  had  now  ceased,  and  in  the  interval  before 
the  fourth  number  which  was  looked  forward  to  with  no 
little  interest,  the  various  parties  were  dividing  themselves, 
some  seeking  friends  whom  they  had  not  had  an  opportu 
nity  of  greeting  earlier  in  the  evening,  others  were  throng 
ing  in  the  direction  of  the  hostess  to  offer  their  congratu 
lations  upon  the  success  of  her  drawing-room ;  while  others 
again  were  merging  in  the  direction  where  Miss  Gordon 
and  the  young  English  Lord  were  holding  court,  already  sur 
rounded  by  a  goodly  following. 

Guyon  and  Harold -were  among  the  latter;  and  as  they 
approached,  Mabel  for  the  first  time  seemed  conscious  of 
Guyon's  presence  in  the  room.  Her  color  heightened  a 
little,  but  it  would  have  been  difficult  for  a  close  observer 
to  discover  whether  it  arose  from  pleasure  or  from  chagrin. 

"Lord  Eichleigh,  I  want  you  to  know  my  friend,  Mr. 
McCarty,"  said  Harold,  as  that  gentleman,  having  ex 
changed  a  hearty  greeting  with  him,  favored  Guyon  with 
the  keen,  penetrating  glance  of  one  accustomed  to  "size 
up"  a  person  he  meets  for  the  first  time. 

"Mr.  McCarty,"  he  said,  taking  Guyon's  hand  with  r 
warmth  of  welcome  which  was  peculiar  with  him.  "Mc 
Carty  is  a  good  old  Irish  name." 

"I  believe  it  is,"  Guyon  replied. 

"Yes,  we  ought  to  have  a  kindred  feeling,  we  men  from 
over  the  'pond/  "  continued  Eichleigh. 

"You   are   mistaken   in   that,"    said    Guyon,   while   an 


200  A  GENTLEMAN  BORN. 

amused  twitter  went  around  the  group  of  listeners.  "I 
am  not  Irish  by  birth." 

"Ah,  that  is  one  of  my  many  blunders ;  but  since  you  bear 
the  name,  you  must  be  a  chip  of  the  old  block  at  least; 
BO,  let's  shake  hands  on  that." 

"I  trust  that  I  am  a  pretty  good  'bit  of  a  chip,' "  said 
Guyon,  already  at  home  with  this  gentleman. 

"You  have  met  Miss  Gordon,"  said  Richleigh. 

"Yes,  we  have  met  before,"  replied  Mabel,  favoring 
Guyon  with  an  approving  smile.  She  could  not  do  less 
when  an  English  Lord  behaved  so  generously. 

"You  are  looking  more  charming  than  when  I  saw  you 
last,  Miss  Gordon,"  said  Guyon. 

"Oh,  I  should  hope  so!"  she  replied.  "Doubtless  you 
forget  my  predicament  when  you  had  the  misfortune  of 
gazing  upon  me  last." 

"I  did  not  recall  that  incident  until  you  spoke  of  it. 
I  referred  to  the  ball  at  Beaucliff." 

"What  was  the  interesting  occasion?  I  must  hear  it," 
said  Eichleigh. 

"Of  course  you  have  not  heard  about  my  yachting  es 
capade  at  Newport,  last  summer,"  Mabel  replied. 

"No,  was  it  anything  serious?  By  Jove!  how  much  I 
would  have  given  to  have  been  there  if  there  was  a  chance 
of  saving  your  life !" 

Miss  Gordon  glanced  carelessly  at  Guyon's  face,  and  saw 
a  shade  of  pain  cross  his  countenance;  then  she  turned  to 
Eichleigh. 

"You  would  have  behaved  more  gallantly  than  the  master 
of  the  yacht  we  were  in.  He  clung  to  the  theory  of  self- 
preservation  at  any  cost,  even  that  of  the  lives  of  those 
who  were  with  him." 

"Was  it  really  as  bad  as  that  ?  Bah !  the  cur !  I  would 
like  to  have  an  opportunity  of  thrashing  him." 


MRS.  BRANDON  ENTERTAINS.  201 

And  Barclay,  who  was  not  far  away,  overhearing  the  re 
mark,  lost  no  time  in  seeking  more  congenial  quarters  in 
in  another  part  of  the  room. 

"This  modest  young  gentleman  here  was  our  hero,  risked 
his  own  life  to  save  our  dear  child,"  said  Mrs.  Barring- 
ton. 

"Indeed!  Well,  I  could  have  thought  as  much,"  re 
plied  Eichleigh,  giving  Guyon  a  look  of  heartfelt  admira 
tion.  "'You  must  tell  me  all  about  it  some  time,  Miss 
Gordon/' 

"Yes,  if  it  comes  to  my  mind;  but  it  is  really  so  tire- 
tome  to  rehearse  these  episodes.  You  see,  even  Mr.  Mc- 
Carty  did  not  remember  it." 

"Not  absolutely.  It  escaped  my  mind  because  a  sub 
ject  of  greater  moment  eclipsed  it,"  replied  Guyon. 

"Listen,  friends!"  said  Mrs.  Barrington;  "there  is 
(he  great  tenor  from  the  Opera  Company  about  to  sing. 
Will  you  sit  here  beside  me,  Mr.  McCarty  ?" 

"With  pleasure,"  Guyon  replied,  experiencing  the  same 
unaccountable  attraction  to  the  lady  which  he  had  felt 
on  the  previous  occasion.  Now,  too,  he  was  in  a  position 
where  he  could,  if  he  wished,  feast  his  e}res  on  the  beauty  of 
the  young  heiress,  and  note  the  impression  which  the  sing 
ing  produced  upon  her. 

It  was  from  Wagner's  "Siegfried,"  rendered  as  only  a 
professional  can  reproduce  the  exquisite  sentiment  of  the 

selection.  If  Mme. had  created  a  sensation  in  "Die 

Walkiire,"  she  was  surely  relegated  to  a  second  place  by 
this  number. 

"Mrs.  Brandon  is  such  a  dear  good  woman  to  give  us 
so  great  a  pleasure,"  murmured  Mrs.  Barrington,  as  she 
covered  her  face  for  a  moment  to  conceal  her  emotion. 

"She  is  one  of  the  best  I  have  ever  met,"  replied  Guyon. 

"You  do  not  know  her  as  I  do,  Mr.  McCarty.     If  you 


202  A  GENTLEMAN  BORN. 

would  only  be  guided  by  her  counsel,  you  would  certainly 
be  the  most  fortunate  of  men." 

"Here  she  comes  now!  I  declare,  she  is  everywhere  at 
once/''  exclaimed  Eichleigh. 

"Aren't  you  people  almost  satiated  with  this  part  of  the 
program?"  asked  the  hostess,  joining  them. 

"Not  at  all !  We  could  listen  to  such  music  for  hours," 
replied  Miss  Gordon. 

"That  is  a  delicate  compliment  from  you,  my  dear.  I 
shall  treasure  it.  Now,  honestly,  I  came  expressly  to  ask 
you  young  people  to  adjourn  to  the  ball-room ;  the  musicians 
there  are  impatiently  waiting  your  presence." 

"En  avant !"  exclaimed  Harold.  "Now  is  your  chance," 
he  whispered  to  Guyon. 

"May  I  have  just  one  dance,  Miss  Gordon?"  queried 
Guyon. 

"I  could  not  refuse  you  if  T  dared,"  replied  the  charm 
ing  Belle,  with  a  glance  that  made  his  heart  thrill  with 
delight. 

Guyon  had  no  dearth  of  partners  in  the  many  dances. 
Most  of  the  young  ladies  had  met  him  at  the  Newport 
ball;  and  others  had  heard  of  his  fame,  and  looked  upon 
him  as  a  wonderful  fellow  of  the  hero  species.  Barclay 
was  in  the  whirl  of  the  dance,  also;  but  it  was  a  subject 
of  comment  that  he  did  not  enter  any  of  the  sets  where  Miss 
Gordon  appeared. 

Tn  an  interval  of  the  dancing,  he  strolled  over  to  where 
Perry  Harrington  was  standing,  apparently  taking  little 
interest  in  the  scene,  but  in  reality  watching  Guyon  as 
closely  as  a  cat  watches  a  mouse,  no  movement  or  action 
escaping  him. 

"You  appear  to  be  enjoying  yourself,  Mr.  Barclay," 
he  said. 

"I  am  doing  my  best  under  the  circumstances.     You 


MRS.  BRANDON  ENTERTAINS.  203 

have  remarked  how  delicately  Miss  Gordon  has  cut  me  to 
night?" 

"Young  ladies'  weapons  are  nqt  always  as  keen  edged 
as  they  appear.  I  made  a  similar  remark  to  you  on  a 
former  occasion,  I  believe." 

"Yes,  but  I  fear  you  do  not  diagnose  the  case  correctly. 
You  are  not  ignorant  of  the  attention  Lord  Kichleigh  is 
paying  to  her?" 

"Eeally,  now  that  you  mention  it,  he  does  seem  to  be 
particularly  interested.  Come,  let  us  move  to  the  other 
side  of  the  room  beneath  the  gallery.  I  detest  being  so 
close  to  the  musicians,  but  it  is  more  secluded,  and  we 
can  converse  without  being  observed." 

"Do  you  still  favor  my  suit  ?"  asked  Barclay,  when  they 
had  reached  the  desired  place. 

"I  have  said  so,  have  I  not?  The  more  in  the  contest, 
the  greater  laurels  for  the  victor." 

"Then  you  do  not  object  to  Kichleigh?" 

"I  object  to  no  one  who  has  a  position  and  wealth  to 
uphold  it." 

"You  are  aware  that  McCarty  is  here  to-night,"  re 
marked  Barclay. 

"Yes,  I  have  seen  him  conversing  with  my  Ward;  but 
not  alone  as  yet.  I  believe  she  has  promised  him  a 
dance." 

"The  Devil  she  has!  And  not  given  me  a  glance  of 
friendly  recognition !"  cried  Barclay. 

"Not  so  loud,  my  friend.  You  must  proceed  cautiously 
if  you  wish  to  win  golden  opinions  from  the  young  lady. 
What  have  you  done  to  further  your  scheme?" 

"Concerning  McCarty  ?  A  little.  The  plot  is  laid,  and 
everything  is  ready  for  him  to  fall  into  it." 

"Humph !     Then,  I  suppose  you  will  manage  to  have  a 


204  A  GENTLEMAN  BORN. 

letter  reach  Miss  Gordon  portraying  the  real  character  of 
her  hero." 

"By  Jove !     I  had  not  thought  of  that.     It's  excellent  1" 

"Not  bad — there,  the  confounded  musicians  are  begin 
ning.  You'll  be  wanted  for  the  dance.  Keep  a  clear 
head  and  you  will  succeed." 

"You  have  raised  my  hopes  to  a  high  pitch.  I  cannot 
thank  you  enough." 

When  Barclay  emerged  from  his  retreat  beneath  the 
gallery,  he  saw  to  his  chagrin,  Guyon  leading  out  Miss  Gor 
don  to  the  dance.  It  was  about  the  last  of  the  evening ;  and 
there  was  no  chance  remaining  for  him ;  but  the  sight  was 
a  stimulus,  if  such  were  required,  to  the  mischief  he  medi 
tated. 

Meanwhile  Guyon's  hopes  and  fears  were  alternately 
rising  and  falling  as  he  guided  his  beloved  through  the 
mazes  of  the  valse.  All  the  past  fervor  of  his  love  returned ; 
for  he  not  onty  held  her  hand  in  his,  but  her  presence  was 
in  close  proximity  and  her  eyes  looked  up  at  times  with  a 
something  which  appeared  in  his  intoxicating  dreams 
to  be  more  than  passing  friendship. 

"You  have  not  forgotten  how  to  dance,  I  see,"  she  was 
raying. 

"I  trust  not,"  he  replied.  "It  would  return  swiftly  with 
you  at  my  side." 

"Compliments  again !  Please  remember  not  to  utter 
them.  That  is  one  thing  I  admire  in  Lord  Richleigh,  he 
never  gives  a  compliment." 

"It  is  not  exactly  proper,  I  suppose;  still  when  the 
heart  prompts  the  utterance,  what  can  one  do?" 

"Place  a  rein  upon  your  emotions.  Is  not  that  possible  ? 
It  is  easy  to  see  that  you  are  not  a  society  man." 

"No,  I  am  not." 


MRS.  BRANDON  ENTERTAINS.  205 

"But  you  should  be!  Why  do  you  hold  yourself  aloof 
from  social  events?" 

"I  did  not  know  that  society  wished  me." 

"Ah!  Pray  what  do  you  mean  by  society — that  is  a 
sweeping  term." 

"Yourself,  for  instance,"  replied  Guyon,  becoming  bold 
for  the  nonce. 

"Myself?     What  difference  can  that  make  to  you?" 

"Not  the  slightest — perhaps;  and  again,  it  might  be 
everything.  Do  you  really  wish  me  to  appear  more  fre 
quently  ?" 

"See,  there  is  Lord  Eichleigh,"  exclaimed  Miss  Gordon, 
abruptly  changing  the  subject.  "Isn't  he  perfectly  grand? 
Think  of  it,  a  real  Lord,  with  a  castle  ever  so  old,  and  a 
superb  residence  in  London." 

"He  is  a  perfect  gentleman,"  replied  Guyon  honestly, 
though  it  dawned  upon  him  that  this  same  English  Lord 
was  a  more  formidable  rival  than  Barclay  had  been. 

"Yes,  indeed.  He  is  that  and  more.  I  tell  you,  he  is 
more  like  our  real  Southern  gentlemen  than  any  I  have 
met." 

"He  is  fortunate  in  having  won  your  gracious  opinions," 
said  Guyon.  "You  never  weary  of  his  society  ?" 

"Weary  of  it?  No;  he  does  not  bore  me  with  silly 
phrases,  and  idle  compliments;  then  he  has  travelled  so 
much — you  should  hear  him  tell  of  the  Land  of  the  Mid 
night  Sun,  and  of  his  exploits  in  Africa !" 

"I  sincerely  congratulate  you  upon  his  friendship." 

"Eeally?  That  is  generous  in  you;  but  why  shouldn't 
you?  He  is  going  back  to  England  very  soon,  I  believe.5* 

"You  will  miss  his  company?"  ventured  Guyon. 

"Yes,  of  course;  but  why  should  I  answer  your  ques 
tion?  It  was  scarcely  right  in  you  to  put  it  so." 

"Pardon  me!     You  cannot  know  how  deeply  interested 


206  A  GENTLEMAN  BORN. 

1  am  in  you,  Miss  Gordon,  but  you  cannot  have  forgotten 
those  few  moments  we  spent  on  the  veranda  at  Beaucliff." 

"Indeed  I  have.     Did  we  stroll  there  after  the  dance?" 

"I  see  you  do  not  wish  to  recall  it." 

"No,  I  do  not.  Here  we  are  at  the  end  of  the  dance.  I 
enjoyed  it  emmensely.  Thanks,  ever  so  much.  Deary 
me,"  she  added,  "there  is  the  summons  to  supper." 

"Lord  Kichleigh  will  be  your  escort,  I  presume,"  said 
Guyon;  "here  he  comes  now  to  claim  you." 

"Always  on  time,  are  you  not?"  murmured  the  Belle. 

The  reply  Guyon  did  not  hear.  Pie  would  fain  have 
avoided  appearing  at  the  supper;  but  he  had  promised  to 
lead  in  Miss  Rushford,  and  he  proceeded  in  a  half-hearted 
way  to  fulfill  his  duty,  much  to  the  annoyance  of  the  pretty 
lass.  It  was  quite  an  elaborate  affair  in  the  banquet-hall, 
with  floral  decorations  galore,  and  daintiest  viands  to  ternpt 
ihe  most  fastidious.  Guyon's  position  was  almost  opposite 
Miss  Gordon,  where  he  could  drink  in  copious  draughts  of 
her  beauty,  hear  her  merry,  ringing  laugh,  and  witness 
the  pleasure  which  Lord  Richleigh  was  enjoying  at  her 
side. 

When  it  was  all  over,  and  a  final  dance  wound  up  the 
affair,  he  departed  among  the  first.  "It  were  better  if  I 
had  not  come,"  he  thought,  as  he  drove  home  alone  to  the 
McCarty  residence.  All  the  old-time  passion  was  full  upon 
him,  the  vision  of  her  beauty  haunted  him  as  something 
which  would  not  be  repelled,  and  with  it  came  the  knowl 
edge,  the  almost  confession  she  had  made,  that  her  affec 
tions  were  centered  in  Lord  "Richleigh,  the  gentleman  of 
wealth  and  high  degree 


A  FASHIONABLE  OPIUM  JOINT.  20? 


CHAPTEK  XXIV. 

A  FASHIONABLE   OPIUM   JOINT. 

THE  day  following  brought  little  relief  to  Guyon.  An 
oppression  of  the  deepest  melancholy  had  settled  upon 
him,  which  he  did  not  even  exert  himself  to  overcome. 
He  went  down  to  the  office  in  the  morning  more  from 
habit  than  with  the  idea  of  diverting  his  mind,  and  his 
unusually  haggard  appearance  attracted  the  notice  of  the 
kind-hearted  contractor. 

"Phwat's  the  matter  wid  ye  at  all,  Guy,  me  lad,"  he 
exclaimed,  as  Guyon  seated  himself  at  his  desk,  and  was 
seemingly  absorbed  in  reflection. 

"1  don't  feel  well  to-day,  Dad.  I  guess  I'll  have  to 
give  up  this  work  for  a  while." 

"That's  right!  Take  a  bit  of  a  holiday.  It'll  do  ye 
no  harm,  sure ;  an'  don't  be  f rettin'  that  way,  at  all." 

"It's  pretty  hard,  Dad,  when  everything  is  dead  against 
one." 

"Faith,  it's  not  so  bad  as  that!  Ye  haven't  heard  a 
word  f  rum  Biglin  in  a  great  phwile  ?" 

"No,  he,  too,  seems  to  avoid  me.  Most  probably  he 
has  met  with  no  success.  The  money  was  wasted  with 
the  Italian,  I'm  afraid." 

"Even  so,  it  didn't  break  us;  an'  ef  ye  can't  find  yer 
own  folks,  sure  ye  know  yer  me  own  b'y  still." 

"Yes,  Dad,  I  won't  forget  that.  I'll  go  away  for  a 
week  or  so,  and  if  you  don't  hear  from  me,  don't  worry, 


208  A  GENTLEMAN  BORN. 

If  mother  should  make  inquiries,  say  that  I  needed  a 
rest,  and  have  gone  for  a  short  vacation." 

"Lave  that  ter  me!  Sure,  the  Missus  hasn't  no  call 
pryin'  inter  yer  affairs.  I'll  give  her  a  tip  on  that." 

Guyon  left  the  office  with  no  definite  purpose  in  view. 
Had  he  been  a  man  of  less  mental  calibre,  the  overwhelm 
ing  force  of  circumstances  which  seemed  to  be  combining 
against  him,  might  have  rendered  him  desperate,  and  led 
him  to  end  his  miserable  existence.  Surely  there  seemed 
little  for  him  to  live  for  now.  No  vestige  of  a  chance  of 
discovering  his  parentage  and  thereby  establishing  himself 
in  the  position  which,  even  in  this  dark  moment,  ho  felt 
to  a  certainty  was  his  right.  Then,  the  one  great  passion 
of  his  life,  his  love  for  Mabel  Gordon,  had  received  a  second 
and  more  deadly  blow  in  the  knowledge  that  Lord  Kieh- 
leigh  had  come  between  him  and  his  awakening  hopes. 
Whilst  he  was  walking  along  aimlessly,  revolving  these 
thoughts  in  his  mind,  he  almost  ran  into  Barclay,  who 
was  approaching  from  the  opposite  direction. 

"Good-morning,  Mr.  McCarty,"  he  exclaimed,  extending 
his  hand  as  though  in  warmest  friendship.  "You  are 
out  for  a  constitutional,  I  suppose,  this  delightful 
day?" 

"Not  exactly.  I  didn't  feel  like  working,  so  I  closed 
my  desk  and  strolled  out  with  no  particular  object  in 
view." 

"Eeally !  Now,  you  are  not  looking  well.  .  Come  up 
to  Sherry's  with  me,  will  you  ?  We'll  have  a  bite  of  some 
thing.  Nothing  like  refreshing  the  inner  man  when  one 
is  out  of  sorts." 

"I  believe  I  will,"  said  Guyon. 

"I  tell  you  what,  McCarty,"  said  Barclay,  when  they 
were  comfortably  seated  before  a  light  luncheon  he  had 
ordered,  and  the  champagne  was  sparkling  in  their  glasses, 


A  FASHIONABLE  OPIUM  JOINT.  209 

"I  believe  that  you  and  I  have  cause  for  mutual  friend 
ship — don't  spare  the  wine,  there's  plenty  more  where  the 
bottle  came  from,  and  Sherry's  is  the  best." 

''I  don't  quite  understand  your  reference/'  Guyon  re 
plied,  as  he  emptied  his  second  glass,  and  acknowledged 
to  himself  that  his  condition  might  not  be  so  bad  after 
all. 

"Well,  it's  this  wa}\  We  both  attended  the  Brandon 
affair  last  night,  we  both  had  an  opportunity  of  seeing 
Miss  Gordon  and  Lord  Kichleigh." 

"Oh,  I  begin  to  perceive ! "  said  Guyon. 

"Yes,  but  did  you  not  understand  when  you  left  the 
house  that  both  of  us  were  eclipsed  by  the  English  noble 
man  ?" 

•'I  thought  that  you  had  already  given  up  the  race, 
Mr.  Barclay." 

"True,  you  must  have  noticed  how  coldly  I  was  received ; 
but  really  I  cannot  see  why,  with  your  elegant  appearance 
and  so  on,  you  should  not  have  stood  an  equal  chance  with 
Riehleigh,  especially  when  you  have  a  claim, — a  priority 
of  right,  as  it  were,  by  having  saved  her  life." 

"Nonsense !  that  amounts  to  nothing.  I.  would  not  have 
wished  the  young  lady  to  consider  it.  But  speaking  of 
equal  chances,  you  forget  that  my  position  is  inferior  to 
his." 

"That  shouldn't  count,  but  I  suppose  it  does  with  her, 
she  has  such  confounded  Southern  ideas  of  birth  and  the 
like — take  another  glass,  allow  me  to  pledge  our  good 
fellowship !" 

"Thank  you  heartily,  Mr.  Barclay.  Honestly,  if  I 
ever  needed  a  friend  it  is  at  present.  To  be  confidential 
with  you,  I  am  more  than  ordinarily  out  of  sorts — way 
down  in  the  depths,  so  to  speak!" 


210  A  GENTLEMAN  BORN. 

"I  thought  as  much.  I  believe  you  told  me  that  you  are 
interested  in  Miss  Gordon/' 

"Did  I?  I  don't  remember, — well,  there  is  no  neces 
sity  for  concealment  now  at  any  rate;  I  was  most  deeply 
interested  in  Miss  Gordon — there,  it  is  out !  You  will  not 
betray  my  confidence?" 

"Have  no  fear  of  that,  old  fellow!" — "I  was  not  far 
out  of  the  way,"  thought  Barclay,  "and  all  my  schemes 
have  a  real  motive  from  his  confession/' 

"There  comes  to  my  mind  at  this  moment,"  said 
Guyon,  as  he  sipped  his  fourth  glass,  "a  remembrance  of 
something  you  said  to  me  when  we  were  visiting  the  opium 
den  in  Chinatown." 

"What  was  that?"  asked  Barclay,  knowing  well,  but 
wishing  to  lead  on  his  victim. 

"You  said  that  there  was  nothing  like  smoking  the  drug 
as  a  panacea  for  all  the  ills  of  life." 

"Did  I  ? — well,  I  will  confess  to  you  that  I  did  that  very 
thing  last  night  when  I  reached  my  quarters." 

"And  the  effect?" 

"Perfect  oblivion  of  the  odious  side  of  life,  a  gradual 
merging  into  all  that  is  beautiful  and  entrancing." 

"Is  it  agreeable  to  you  that  I  try  it  this  evening  ?"  asked 
Guyon. 

"Agreeable  ?  Did  I  not  say  that  my  apartments  are  open 
to  you  at  any  time?  Come  at  once — no  time  like  the 
present,  say  I." 

"All  right,  let  us  go !" 

Summoning  a  cab,  they  drove  to  Dimples'  flat,  at  Cen 
tral  Park  west,  of  which  Barclay  had  spoken  to  Guyon  as 
liis  bachelor  apartments. 

As  they  were  ascending  the  stairs,  Barclay  spoke  in  a 
tone  loud  enough  to  be  heard  by  the  occupant  of  the 
flat: 


A  FASHIONABLE  OPIUM  JOINT.  211 

"Here  we  are,  Mr.  McCarty.  I  think  I  told  you  that  I 
had  a  pleasant  surprise  awaiting  you.  My  joint  isn't 
anything  like  what  you  have  seen,  I  can  tell  you." 

"The  surroundings  will  enchance  the  effect  of  the  drug, 
no  doubt,"  Guyon  replied  with  a  little  laugh. 

Opening  the  door  of  the  apartments,  they  appeared  to 
be  deserted.  Everything,  however,  was  in  perfect  order. 
The  drawing-room  was  exceptionally  pretty  and  tasteful 
in  decoration,  notwithstanding  its  limited  proportions. 
At  the  further  end,  to  one  side,  portieres  of  the  finest 
Oriental  texture  were  hung.  Barclay  drew  them  apart 
and  disclosed  a  room  fitted  in  truly  Eastern  splendor. 
There  was  but  one  window  in  the  place,  which  was  so 
heavily  draped  as  to  exclude  the  faintest  ray  of  light. 
An  alcove  had  been  formed  into  an  Oriental  nook  with 
curious  tapestries  covering  the  sides,  while  on  an  exquis 
itely  carved  pedestal  rose  a  statue  of  Buddha,  surrounded 
with  all  the  paraphernalia  of  a  shrine.  Above,  from  the 
centre  of  the  alcove,  hung  a  massive  lantern  of  bronze, 
sustaining  a  dozen  or  more  colored  lamps,  which  gave  a 
strange,  weird  light.  In  another  corner  was  a  cabinet 
filled  with  the  rarest  Indian  curios,  and  the  floor  was 
covered  with  the  skins  of  tigers  and  leopards  whose  heads 
with  glassy  eyes  and  gaping  jaws  looked  gruesome,  to  say 
the  least. 

"How  do  you  like  it?"  said  Barclay. 

"Immensely !  I  did  not  know  that  you  were  a  disciple 
of  the  Buddhist  creed." 

"Nor  am  I.  It's  just  a  part  of  the  get  up,  you  know. 
My  friends  who  come  here  like  the  idea,  and  it's  quite  the 
fad,  I  assure  you." 

"And  where  may  one  smoke  the  opium  ?"  asked  Guyon. 

"You  have  remarked  the  odor,  I  presume?" 


212  A  GENTLEMAN  BORN. 

"Yes;  but  it  is  strangely  different  from  what  we  ex 
perienced  in  Chinatown/' 

"A  trifle;  that  arises  from  the  aromatic  incense  burn 
ing  at  the  shrine,  mingling  with  the  opium  fumes.  I  find 
it  most  agreeable." 

At  this  point,  Barclay  led  his  guest  to  another  corner 
of  the  room  which  he  had  not  yet  observed ;  and,  drawing 
a  curtain,  disclosed  a  nook  fitted  with  a  couch,  upon  which 
were  a  number  of  cushions  of  the  softest  texture,  and  a 
table  upon  which  burned  a  tiny  fairy  lamp.  There  were 
also  a  couple  of  pipes,  beautiful  affairs  made  of  bamboo 
tipped  with  polished  ivory,  the  box  containing  the  opium, 
and  the  needle,  all  the  requisites  of  a  complete  opium 
outfit.  Above  the  couch  rose  a  canopy  of  rich  material 
supported  on  either  side  by  spears  of  approved  antiquity. 

"Are  you  ready?"  asked  Barclay  gazing  steadily  at 
Guyon,  as  though  fearful  he  would  retreat  at  the  last  mo 
ment. 

"Perfectly !  I  am  more  than  anxious  to  try  it ;  only  I 
do  not  know  when  I  shall  leave  this  place  when  once  I 
begin  smoking." 

"Just  imagine  yourself  an  Indian  Eajah,  if  you  will; 
give  full  play  to  your  fancy  as  you  recline  on  the  couch — 
there,  does  it  suit  you?" 

"Luxurious!"  murmured  Guyon,  as  he  sank  upon  the 
pillows.  "One  could  conjure  up  visions  of  Paradise  here." 

"And  the  Houri?" 

"They  only  are  wanting." 

"Not  at  all. — Here,  Mirantha !  we  are  waiting  for  you !" 
exclaimed  Barclay. 

And  in  response  to  his  call,  Dimples  entered  attired  as 
}i,n  Eastern  princess  in  a  chort  white  tunic  fastened  at 
the  breast  with  a  girdle  of  the  purest  gold,  the  long  flow 
ing  sleeves  concealing  in  part  the  pearly  whiteness  of  her 


A  FASHIONABLE  OPIUM  JOINT.  213 

arms,  while  her  countenance  was  properly  veiled  in  Oriental 
fashion. 

"This  lady  will  attend  to  your  wants,  only  don't  speak 
to  her,  for  she  does  not  understand  our  language  very 
well." 

"I  believe  this  is  part  of  your  entertainment.  I  can 
scarcely  think  that  the  portion  of  those  lovely  features  I 
behold  belong  to  an  Indian  maid;  however,  I  will  enter 
fully  into  the  spirit  of  the  thing  and  do  as  you  bid." 

Dimples  hastened  to  prepare  the  pipe,  and  by  her  motions 
instructed  Guyon  how  to  hold  the  tiny  ball  of  opium  over 
the  flame  of  the  lamp;  then,  as  he  began  to  inhale  the 
vapor,  she  turned  aside  to  Barclay,  \vho,  comprehending 
her  gesture,  withdrew.  Guyon  was  soon  oblivious  of  all 
about  him.  He  knew  not  that  the  young  girl  held  his 
hand  in  hers,  nor  that  she  watched  his  every  motion  and 
heard  the  exclamations  which  he  uttered. 

He  was  drifting  rapidly  away  from  all  his  past  and 
present  trouble  and  darkness.  Light,  resplendent  light 
shone  about  him,  and  the  place  where  he  was  seemed 
transformed  into  a  regal  palace.  There,  in  the  blaze  of 
glory  upon  a  throne,  she  was  seated,  surrounded  by 
courtiers  and  attendants  without  number.  Delicious 
odors  were  wafted  by  summer  zephyrs  through  the  halls 
— odors  of  precious  spices  and  of  the  rarest  flowering  plants. 
He  saw  her  rise  from  her  throne  as  he  approached.  He 
would  kneel  to  kiss  her  hand,  but  she  bade  him  rise,  taking 
him  by  the  hand,  and  calling  him  her  love — her  King; 
\vhile  softest  music  filled  the  place  from  some  unsoen 
performers.  Hand  in  hand,  they  leave  the  hall,  they 
wander  out  into  the  gardens  where  winged  cupids  strew 
rosebuds  in  their  path,  and  the  blossoms  of  the  orange 
and  pomegranate.  Countless  singing  birds  warble  their 
songs  of  delight,  and  the  heavens  above  are  of  the  softest 


214  A  GENTLEMAN  BORN. 

azure  hues.  "I  love  you!"  she  whispers,  "I  love  you! 
dwell  here  with  me,  my  love!"  As  though  he  needed  her 
word  whilst  he  gazed  into  those  eyes!  How  different 
from  the  night  at  Beaucliff!  How  changed  from  her 
gaze  when  she  awoke  from  her  unconscious  state  after  he 
.had  rescued  her!  How  wonderfully  changed  from  the 
glance  she  gave  him  at  Brandon's  last  night !  "But  where 
is  Bichleigh?"  he  is  saying,  "have  you  forgotten  him? 
Is  not  he  more  worthy  of  sharing  your  exalted  state?" 
t\nd  she  murmurs :  "I  love  but  you !"  Then  when  he  would 
have  folded  her  to  his  heart — Bah! — the  light  is  failing! 
darkness  obscures  the  wondrous  scene!  He  gropes  on 
through  the  gardens,  he  is  lost  in  the  impenetrable  mazes. 
By  some  inexecrable  fate,  his  loved  one  has  been  torn  from 
his  embrace.  Darker  still!  The  palace,  and  the  gardens 
vanish ! — he  awakes. 

"Fill  it  again!"  Guyon  cries,  motioning  to  Dimples 
who  had  receded  to  a  further  corner.  And,  at  his  bid 
ding,  she  once  more  dips  the  point  of  the  needle  into  the 
sticky  mass  of  opium,  brings  it  out  with  a  little  lump 
about  the  size  of  a  pea,  and  goes  through  the  same  opera 
tion  with  him  of  holding  it  in  the  pipe  over  the  flame. 
Guyon  breathes  heavily.  Eagerly  he  inhales  the  fascinat 
ing  smoke,  slowly,  more  slowly,  his  senses  succumb  to  the 
influence. 

Once  more  he  is  with  Mabel  Gordon,  his  loved  one;  but 
there  is  another  lady  with  her  now.  Where  has  he  seen 
her  before?  Was  it  in  those  mysterious  dreams  which 
twice  before  had  visited  him?  This  time,  the  scene  re 
sembles  the  Barrington  Villa  at  Newport.  Ah,  it  is  the 
occasion  of  the  ball!  The  two  ladies  are  seated  on  the 
\eranda.  As  he  approaches,  the  elderly  lady  holds  out 
her  arms  to  embrace  him.  Ah,  the  warmth  and  security 
of  that  moment !  She  presents  him  to  Mabel  as  her  son, 


A  FASHIONABLE  OPIUM  JOINT.  215 

lie  all  wonder,  whilst  he  endeavors  to  recall  those  features. 
that  more  than  affectionate  expression  in  her  eyes  as  she 
gazes  on  him.  She  disappears.  They  are  alone  now,  his 
love  and  he  in  the  same  moonlit  scene.  The  ocean,  bathed  in 
silvery  sheen,  the  heavens  above,  clear  and  beautiful,  the 
odors  of  the  briny  deep  wafted  on  the  air  of  the  summer 
night.  And  they  are  alone — only  the  distant  music  of 
the  breakers,  and  the  refrain  from  the  orchestra  disturbs 
the  silence.  And  that  feeling  of  exquisite  delight  from 
her  presence  steals  over  him,  soothing  every  pain,  and 
banishing  every  extraneous  sensation.  "You  will  never 
leave  me  now,"  he  murmurs,  "my  own,  my  darling!  you 
are  all  mine!"  "All  yours!"  she  replies,  her  head 
resting  upon  his  breast,  her  deep  blue  eyes  beauteous  in 
the  moonlight,  upturned  to  his. — And  then — a  cloud  ob 
scures  the  Queen  of  the  Night!  The  winds  from  Eurus' 
caves  are  unloosed.  The  waves  are  lashed  into  fury.  They 
are  down  there,  struggling  in  the  watery  abyss.  "Save 
me !"  she  cries,  "save  me !"  Fearfully  he  battles  with  the 
elements.  Now  he  is  about  to  reach  his  dear  one,  now 
an  angry  billow  more  furious  than  the  last,  dashes  them 
apart.  Darker,  still  darker!  Anguish  upon  agony,  she 
has  gone !  she  has  perished  in  the  raging  waters. 

"Another  pipe,,  quick !" — "I  cannot  stand  this  much 
longer,  and  still  what  is  it  that  fascinates  me  ?"  he  thought ; 
as  his  senses  returning  with  a  terrific  shock  which  almost 
unbalanced  his  reason,  he  gave  the  order  to  the  pretty 
attendant. 

Without  uttering  a  word,  Dimples  again  prepared  the 
pipe,  noticing  even  now  the  ravages  which  the  two  former 
had  wrought  upon  him.  His  cheeks  deadly  pale,  his  eyes 
distended  and  glassy,  while  the  cold  moisture  stood  out 
in  beads  upon  his  forehead.  Still,  she  was  unmoved  by 
the  slightest  sentiment  of  pity.  Her  one  great  purpose 


A  GENTLEMAN  BORN. 

the  acquisition  of  all  that  Barclay  had  promised,  stood 
forth  in  prominence  before  her  mind,  leaving  no  place  for 
any  heart-pleading  which  her  better  nature  might  have 
suggested. 

The  third  pipe  having  been  inhaled,  Guy  on  experienced 
a  phenomenon  which  has  puzzled  many  thinkers  in 
psychological  research.  It  seemed  that  his  loved  one 
was  removed  at  a  great  distance  from  him  physically. 
Added  to  this  was  an  apparently  insurmountable  barrier 
of  moral  force  separating  them  still  more  acutely.  But, 
without  a  thought  as  to  the  possibility  of  overcoming  the 
obstacles,  lo,  they  were  burst  asunder!  for  his  spirit,  his 
astral  self,  leaving  the  confines  of  its  material  prison,  was 
wafted  with  swiftest  motion  towards  his  love.  And  she. 
in  spirit  coming,  responsive  to  his  call,  they  met  in  a 
woodland  dell.  It  was  early  springtime,  and  the  birds  in 
joyous  chorus  greeted  the  spirit-lovers.  Wood  Nymphs 
and  Fauns  tripped  nimbly  along  their  path  scattering  the 
first  blossoms  of  the  dogwood,  and  wreathing  garlands 
of  the  trailing  plants  and  laurels,  while  myriads  of  insects 
buzzed  their  drony  song.  How  fragrant  the  atmosphere 
with  the  renaissance  of  Nature !  How  buoyant  their  astral 
reives  untrammelled  with  the  physical  weight  and  shackles ! 

<fYou  have  come  in  answer  to  my  longing  desire,"  he 
paid  to  the  loved  one. 

"I  have  come  because  you  willed  it,  and  because  your 
love  summoned  me." 

<fWould  that  we  could  dwell  always  thus,  apart  from  men, 
from  the  world  and  ourselves,  communing  with  each  other 
r.nd  with  Nature." 

"There  is  no  other  way,  no  other  means  for  us  to  meet, 
Jove;  the  barriers  are  so  strongly  built — only  our  spirit 
selves  may  pass  beyond." 


A  FASHIONABLE  OPIUM  JOINT.  217 

"'Tis  destined  so — well,  dearest  one,  we  still  can  meet 
at  will." 

"Call,  and  I  come !  No  distance  is  too  great,"  she  mur 
mured,  "nor  earth,  nor  heaven  can  part  us,  love !" 

"My  own,"  he  whispered — then,  when  he  would  embrace 
Ler,  a  giant  figure,  some  monster  of  the  primeval  forest, 
rose  between  them,  and  his  love  affrighted,  vanished. — 
Heavenward  his  spirit  soared  and  sought  her  among  the 
strata  of  clouds  in  the  ether,  encountering  myriad 
other  spirits,  but  his  lost  love  he  found  not.  Over  seas  and 
lands  he  sped  with  untiring  motion.  His  quest  was  in 
vain.  His  material  self  began  to  plead  her  soul's  return; 
nor  could  his  most  strenuous  efforts  resist  the  attrac 
tion. 

His  awakening  senses  feel  the  loss  most  keenly.  He 
strives  to  call  his  love,  he  strives  to  free  himself  once  more 
from  earthly  bonds,  but  his  powers  are  tortured  one  by 
cne  by  the  maddening  effort.  Then  with  a  cry  of  almost 
insanity,  he  awakes  from  the  third  pipe,  exhausted. 

"Another,"  he  whispered  faintly. 

"I  do  not  think  I  can  give  you  another  to-day,"  said 
Dimples,  falling  down  upon  the  floor  beside  the  couch. 

''Who  are  you  that  would  prescribe  the  limits  to  my 
indulgence?"  he  replied. 

"Who  am  I,  Mr.  McCarty  ?  Open  your  eyes  and  perhaps 
you  will  recognize  me."  At  the  same  time  Dimples  threw 
aside  the  veil  which  partially  concealed  her  features. 

"Come  closer,"  said  Guyon  hoarsely.  "No,  by  Heaven, 
it  is  not  she!  It  is  you,  Dimples.  How  did  you  come 
here?"  he  asked,  rising  to  a  half-sitting  posture. 

"I  didn't  come  at  all,  I'm  just  here,"  she  replied,  fa 
voring  him  with  a  roguish  smile. 

"Then  this  is  not  Barclay's  bachelor  apartment?" 

"Oh,  yes,  you  may  call  it  that  if  you  wish." 


218  A  GENTLEMAN  BORN. 

"And  you  are  not  his  wife?  Of  course  not!  If  I 
had  imagined  it  all — but  how  could  I  have  obtained  :.he 
information  ?" 

"Come,  Mr.  McCarty,  what's  the  good  of  moralizing? 
You  have  come  here  of  your  own  free  will,  haven't  you?" 

"Yes,  I  believe  so.  Certainly  I  did.  I  cannot  recall 
just  when  I  came — those  pictures !  Where  am  I  ?"  he  ex 
claimed,  and  a  film  seemed  to  cover  his  sight. 

"You  are  right  here,  deary.  Don't  you  mind  the  pic 
tures.  Were  they  grand?" 

"The  visions  I  had?  Did  I  say  anything  about  them?" 
asked  Guyon,  raising  himself  again  and  gazing  about  the 
loom. 

"No.     Do  you  mind  if  I  sit  here  by  you  on  the  couch  ?" 

"Sit  there  if  you  want  to,  Dimples.  We  are  old  friends, 
aren't  we,  you  and  I  ?" 

"You  said  so  once,"  she  replied,  looking  down  at  her 
dainty  feet  which  showed  to  excellent  advantage  by  reason 
of  her  short  tunic. 

"There  is  no  reason  why  we  should  not  still  be  friends. 
Now  give  me  another  pipe,  that's  a  good  girl." 

"No,  T  want  you  to  talk  with  me.  Say,  you're  in  love, 
f.in't  you?"  she  asked,  plumping  out  the  question  so  sud 
denly  that  Guyon  was  at  a  loss  how  to  answer. 

"Why  do  you  ask?"  he  said. 

"Oh,  I  don't  know!  You  young  fellows  generally  are. 
find  when  you're  handsome  and  swell,  you  can  catch  any 
thing  you  chase." 

"I'm  afraid  your  knowledge  is  not  exactly  accurate," 
replied  Guyon  with  a  smile. 

"Maybe  it  isn't ;  but  I  can't  see  why  a  girl  wouldn't  love 
you." 

"I  haven't  said  that  I  desire  the  love  of  any  young 
damsel." 


A  FASHIONABLE  OPIUM  JOINT.  219 

"You  haven't  said  so,  but  I  know  it.  You  won't  mind 
if  I  tell  you  that  I  heard  just  a  little  of  what  you  said  while 
^ou  were  under  the  influence,  will  you?"  she  asked,  mov 
ing  a  little  closer  to  his  side. 

"What  was  it,  a  real  confession?" 

"Something  like  it.     Told  the  name  of  the  lady,  too." 

"Ah,  Dimples,  it's  no  use  dodging  you  since  you  know; 
but  did  I  say  also  that  my  love  was  not  returned?" 

"Yes,  indeedy — at  least  I  might  infer  as  much.  Gee 
whiz !  she  must  be  mighty  hard  to  please." 

"Perhaps  so;  but  you  must  remember  my  origin,  Dimples. 
Remember  what  you  and  I  once  were." 

"Pshaw,  what's  the  use?  As  long  as  you've  got  the 
plunks  and  the  swell  make-up,  what's  the  odds?  I  say.^ 

"A  great  deal  more  than  you  have  any  idea  of.  Now, 
Dimples,  do  you  know  what  I  sometimes  think?" 

"Nothing  about  me,  is  it  ?"  she  asked,  giving  him  a  long. 
Joving  look  out  of  her  big,  blue  eyes. 

"Yes,  about  you.  I  have  thought  that  it  might  have 
been  better  for  me  if  I  had  not  been  lifted  from  the 
streets.  You  and  I  would  have  grown  up  together — I  did 
like  you  immensely  once." 

"You  said  that  before,"  remarked  Dimples  with  a  little 
pout. 

"What  if  I  say  it  again?"  said  Guyon.  "If  our  earli 
est  friendship  had  not  been  blighted,  it  might  have  ripened 
into  something  like  a  warmer  attachment." 

"Something  like  Mr.  Barclay's?"  queried  Dimples,  with 
a  saucy  smile. 

"No,  not  as  bad  as  that.  But,  Dimples,  now  that  you 
have  touched  on  the  subject,  can  I  not  urge  you  to  leave  this 
place?" 

"Easy,  if  you  want  to." 

"On  what  condition?" 


220  A  GENTLEMAN  BORN. 

"That  is  for  yourself  to  name. — May  I  call  you  Guy?" 

"Yes,  if  you  wish.     I  don't  think  I  quite  follow  you." 

"Don't  you?  Well,  if  I  leave  this  beautiful  home,  where 
t-hall  I  go?  I  ain't  got  no  other  place.  No  parents  or 
anyone  who  cares  for  me,"  she  said,  with  the  cleverest  bit 
of  acting,  which  included  a  sob  or  two,  and  a  pretty  lace 
handkerchief  applied  to  her  eyes  with  a  hand  of  delicate 
proportions  on  which  several  costly  jewels  were  displayed. 

"You  are  not  altogether  friendless  whilst  I  am  living," 
Guyon  whispered,  he  coming  close  to  her  this  time: 

"Then  you  do  like  me !"  she  exclaimed.  "And  if  I  left 
Barclay  you  would  give  me  a  grand  house,  and  horses 
and  coaches  and  all  that?" 

"I  have  not  said  so  much,  my  little  girl,  but  this  I  will 
honestly  promise,  you  shall  have  a  respectable  home." 

"Pshaw!  what's  the  fun  in  being  respectable?  But 
then,  I  wouldn't  care  so  much  if  you  were  with  me." 

"I  cannot  promise  you  that,  Dimples.  I  have  no  definite 
plans  for  the  future.  I  have  no  right  to  hope  for  success 
in  my  one  cherished  love.  There,  you  see,  little  one,  I  have 
confessed  unconsciously  to  you  that  I  love  another  most 
deeply  and  sincerely.  You  would  not  have  me  wed  you 
without  giving  you  all  my  heart's  affection." 

"Oh,  ain't  you  slow!"  exclaimed  Dimples,  with  an 
impetuous  kick  at  the  couch.  "But  you  are  such  a  good, 
innocent  dear !  Just  give  me  a  kiss  and  we'll  go  out  and 
have  tea  together." 

Then,  before  Guyon  could  utter  a  word  in  protest,  the 
£,irl  had  flung  both  her  arms  around  his  neck,  and  kissed 
him  again  and  again. 


MISS  GORDON  RECEIVES  A  LETTER.         2*1 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

MISS  GORDON  RECEIVES  A  LETTER. 

"Do  you  know,  Mabel,  I  have  not  seen  Harold  nor 
heard  from  him  for  two  or  three  days,  and  I  think  he  is 
perfectly  horrid!" 

•''I  cannot  share  your  opinion,  Esther  dear.  Really,  I 
think  you  are  too  exacting;  especially  when  you  are  not 
even  his  fiancee." 

"Perhaps  there  is  something  in  that;  but  you  know  I 
am  willing  to  be  if  he  should  ask  me.  It's  so  absurd  that 
girls  can't  have  real  lovers  until  they  reach  a  certain 
age." 

"In  your  case,  no  doubt  it  is,  dear,  for  with  all  your 
after  experience,  I  do  not  think  your  own  true  little  heart 
i\  ill  ever  languish  after  another.  You  will  meet  many  men 
more  handsome,  and  perhaps  brighter  than  Harold  Bran 
don,  but  you  will  be  true  to  him." 

"Thank  you  ever  so  much  for  that,  May.  You  seem  to 
read  me  better  than  I  know  myself ;  however,  on  this  point, 
1  feel  that  you  are  correct.  To  think  that  I  have  to  wait 
another  whole  year  before  I  enjoy  all  these  pleasures  of 
which  you  already  are  tired !" 

"Yes,  tired  is  about  the  correct  word,  Esther." 

"But  the  latest,  Lord  Richleigh,  you  are  not  weary  of 
him?  You  spoke  so  eloquently  of  his  gallantry  and  ex 
quisite  dancing  at  the  Brandon  drawing-room." 

"Did  1?"  asked  Miss  Gordon,  with  a  little  suspicion  of 
a  yawn. 


222-  A  GENTLEMAN  BORN. 

"Yes,  and  he  has  called  since  that  evening.  Did  you 
fmd  it  difficult  to  entertain  him?" 

"Oh,  no!  that  is  right  easy,  child.  Entertaining  is 
my  forte  somehow.  I  could  enjoy  the  society  of  gentlemen 
every  evening,  provided  they  were  of  Kichleigh's  stamp, 
and  did  not  attempt  love-making — that  is  what  annoys 
me." 

"You  poor,  pretty,  beautiful  thing!"  exclaimed  Esther, 
throwing  her  arms  around  her  friend,  and  gazing  into  ber 
eyes  with  an  expression  half-comic,  half-sympathetic. 
*'l  am  really  afraid  you  will  die  an  old  maid." 

They  made  a  pretty  picture,  these  two  young  girls,  pit 
ting  together  on  a  cozy  couch  drawn  up  before  a  log-fire 
in  Mabel's  boudoir.  Esther  has  changed  somewhat  since 
\ve  saw  her  last.  Her  beauty  of  form  and  feature  is  becom 
ing  more  pronounced,  and  she  bids  fair  to  attract  even 
more  admiration,  when  she  enters  society,  than  her  mother 
did  in  her  palmiest  days  when  she  reigned  Belle  of  every 
event  for  so  many  seasons.  Esther's  disposition  remains 
the  same.  True  and  steadfast  of  purpose,  loving,  where 
the  object  proves  itself  worthy,  with  an  intensity  of  feel 
ing  which  amounts  almost  to  devotion.  Her  girl  friends 
are  numerous,  attracted  by  her  charming  ways ;  but  Mabel 
Gordon  still  holds  the  old  place  of  chummiest  chum ;  and 
whilst  she  has  as  yet  met  few  gentlemen  besides  Harold 
Brandon,  her  love  for  him  is  a  subject  which  she  believes 
too  sacred  to  question. 

As  she  looks  now  into  Mabel's  eyes,  the  liquid  depths 
of  which  can  at  times  conceal  the  truer  sentiments  of  the 
heart,  she  finds  nothing  to  contradict  her  statement. 

"What  if  I  should,  Pet,  would  it  be  so  dreadful  a  crime  ?" 

"I  don't  know.  Mama  says  that  it  is  the  duty  of  every 
girl  to  marry." 

"Does  she  not  qualify  her  assertion,  dear?" 


MISS  GORDON  RECEIVES  A  LETTER.         223 

"Oh,  yes;  of  course,  she  adds,  if  one  finds  the  man  of 
her  choice,  the  one  whom  she  can  love  as  none  other." 

"That  is  the  all-important  point ;  and  if  we  do  not  meet 
the  man, — then  there  is  no  other  alternative." 

"If  you  please.  Miss  Gordon,"  said  the  maid  appearing 
at  the  door,  "Mr.  Barrington  sent  this  letter  to  you.  Was 
put  into  his  mail  by  mistake,  he  says." 

"All  right,  Julie,  you  may  go." — "I  wonder  whom  it  is 
from?"  she  continued,  as  she  carelessly  examined  the 
envelope. 

"It's  a  man's  handwriting,"  said  Esther,  peering  over 
her  shoulder  with  the  privilege  which  her  chumship 
claimed. 

"Yes,  and  I  have  seen  it  before,"  replied  Mabel  mus 
ingly;  and  she  reached  for  a  delicate  pearl  paper  cutter 
from  her  desk. 

"Do  you  mind  reading  it  to  me,  May,  I'm  so  inter 
ested!" 

"Of  course  not,  Darling,  there  are  no  secrets  between 
us."  She  read: 

"DEAR  Miss  GORDON: 

"Excuse  the  liberty  I  take  in  addressing  you,  which 
I  feel  the  more  delicate  about  doing,  knowing  your  declared 
aversion  to  me.  But  even  while  this  very  acknowledg 
ment  precludes  a  motive  of  self-interest,  it  should  suggest 
that  your  own  interest  is  ever  present  to  my  mind." 

"Cleverly  put,"  Esther  interposed.  "Let's  see  the  sub 
scription." 

"There  is  no  need  of  that;  it  is  from  that  fellow  Bar 
clay.  His  hypocritical  pretences  are  too  transparent  in 
these  few  lines." 


224  A  GENTLEMAN  BORN. 

"What  can  he  he  writing  about?"  asked  Esther  with 
growing  impatience. 

"You  shall  not  be  long  in  ignorance,"  replied  her 
friend. 

"I  am  aware,"  she  continued  reading,  "that  a  certain 
party,  McCarty  by  name,  posing  in  society  as  a  gentleman, 
but  in  reality  having  no  claim  to  the  title,  has  won  your 
respect  and  life-long  gratitude  by  having  rescued  you  from 
death  last  summer. 

"Lest  my  words  may  appear  too  strong  for  credence, 
1  am  prepared  to  furnish  proof  that  this  man  frequents 
resorts  in  this  city  which  are,  to  say  the  least,  question 
able,  and  that  he  is  at  present  enjoying  the  pleasures  of 
the  opium  habit  in  company  with  a  chorus  girl  from  the 
Casino." 

"Pardon  me  for  bringing  this   disagreeable  truth  to 
your  attention,  and,  believe  me  again,  it  is  only  from  a 
motive  pure  and  disinterested." 
"I  am, 

"With  deepest  respect, 

"GEORGE  BARCLAY." 

As  she  finished  reading,  her  voice  trembled  with  an  emo 
tion  she  did  not  attempt  to  conceal,  while  her  face  alter 
nately  flushed  a  deep  crimson  and  grew  deadly  pale.  Mabel 
remained  silent  for  some  time ;  and  Esther,  with  no  intima- 
1ion  of  what  was  passing  in  her  friend's  mind,  gazed  at 
her,  believing  that  her  agitation  was  caused  by  a  feeling 
of  indignation  against  the  man  who  had  dared  to  address 
her 

"Isn't  it  awful?"  she  whispered,  taking  Mabel's  hand  in 
hers  and  wondering  why  it  was  icy  cold, 

There  was  no  response. 


MISS  GORDON  RECEIVES  A  LETTER.          225 

''Mabel,  what  is  the  matter?  Why  are  you  so  dis 
turbed?"  she  exclaimed. 

"The  base  wretch !  the  false-hearted  friend !"  she  almost 
hissed. 

"Mabel,  Mabel!  you  are  not  yourself!  What  are  you 
saying  ?" 

"I  know  perfectly  well,  Esther.  I  can't  help  it.  Throw 
that  thing  in  the  fire,  it  will  poison  me  if  I  touch  it. — 
No,  don't !"  she  cried,  as  Esther  was  on  the  point  of  carry 
ing  out  her  request.  "It  may  be  of  use  to  me  yet." 

"Do  you  think  it  is  really  so  ?  He  appeared  to  be  so  t ruly 
a  gentleman;  and  then,  Harold  brought  him  to  us.  What 
\vill  he  think?  I  wonder  if  he  knows  how  bad  he  is?" 
said  Esther,  as  though  communing  with  herself. 

"Of  whom  are  you  speaking  ?"  Mabel  demanded  sharply. 

"Please  don't  be  offended!  I — I  didn't  mean  any 
thing,  only  it  seems  so  dreadfully  real,  all  that  he  writes 
about  Mr.  McCarty." 

"And  you  believe  it  ?"  asked  Miss  Gordon,  looking  at  her 
friend — a  strange  light  gleaming  in  her  eyes. 

"What  else  are  we  to  do  ?  We  all  have  known  Mr.  Bar 
clay  so  long,  his  family  is  of  the  best;  and  besides  he  is 
cne  of  Papa's  personal  friends." 

"With  all  that,  Esther,  were  he  descended  from  a  family 
which  traced  its  origin  back  to  the  flood ;  were  his  standing 
in  society  the  highest  and  best;  and  even  though  he  is  on 
terms  of  intimate  friendship  with  your  family,  I  atsert 
that  what  he  writes  is  false." 

"Mabel,  do  you  say  that  ?  But  then,  you  are  prejudiced 
against  Mr.  Barclay." 

"I  despise  him !  I  had  little  use  for  him.  I  have  found 
him  to  be  a  weak,  selfish  man,  caring  more  for  his  own 
pleasure  and  amusement  than  for  the  well-being  of  those 
i.bout  him.  1  permitted  his  attentions  to  me  only  to  draw 


226  A   GENTLEMAN  BOBN. 

him  out  and  measure  his  protestations  of  love  from  the 
truest  standpoint.  He  failed  utterly,  and  I  discarded  him. 
See  how  he  retaliates !  vilifying  the  character  of  this  man 
who  has  not  the  power  to  injure  him  if  he  willed." 

"It  is  singular!"  mused  Esther;  "but  consider.  May 
dear,  doesn't  he  know  that  Mr.  McCarty  hasn't  a  chance 
of  winning  your  hand?  He  was  at  the  Brandon  affair 
the  other  night,  and  witnessed,  as  you  told  me,  your  prefer 
ence  for  the  society  of  Lord  Kichleigh." 

"That  is  true.  However,  all  this  may  have  been  planned 
fcome  time  ago.  Look  at  the  date  of  the  letter.  It  was 
written  the  very  day  following  the  dance — No,  Esther 
dear,  I  see  now  as  clearly  as  though  I  had  penetrated  his 
most  secret  thoughts.  He  thinks  by  this  letter  to  place 
me  under  an  obligation  to  him.  He  thinks  that  he  will 
rise  in  my  esteem,  even  perhaps  to  supersede  my  supposed 
attachment  for  Kichleigh." 

"He  says  that  he  has  proof!"  suggested  Esther. 

"My  dear,  you  are  a  sweet,  good,  innocent  child;  and 
know  very  little  of  the  ways  of  men.  If  he  has  proof, 
it  will  bear  investigation." 

"You  will  go  as  far  as  that,  May?  I  didn't  know  that 
you  were  so  much  interested  in  Mr.  McCarty." 

"Well,  if  I  am  ?"  replied  this  strange  young  lady.  "Have 
you  anything  to  say  against  it?  Surely  you  should  not. 
when  your  own  dearest  friend,  than  whom  you  believe 
there  is  none  better  living,  introduced  him  to  us.  Ho  has 
known  him  for  a  long  time,  they  were  chums  at  College. 
Eeally,  if  there  were  anything  so  disgracefully  wrong  in 
his  character,  he  would  have  known  it." 

"Yes,  I  believe  Harold;  and  yet,  it  is  so  hard  to  decide. 
May,"  she  said,  dropping  on  a  cushion  before  her  friend, 
and  looking  up  into  her  face,  "May,  you  do  not  love  Mr. 
McCarty,  do  you?" 


MISS  GORDON  RECEIVES  A  LETTER.         227 

"Nonsense,  child !  Is  it  necessary  for  me  to  love  evrry 
man  whose  cause  1  champion  ?  Mr.  McCarty  has  appeared 
in  my  eyes  as  a  gentleman  on  the  few  occasions  I  have  met 
him.  His  bearing,  his  cultured  manners,  his  very  ac 
tions — so  oblivious  of  self  and  solicitous  for  others — all 
Ihis  in  some  way  offsets  the  thought  of  his  humble  origin. 
I  respect  him.  I  have  not  admitted  as  much  before,  but 
when  his  character  is  attacked  by  so  vile  a  man  as  Bar 
clay,  I  must  truthfully  say  this  much  to  you,  Esther." 

"Then  I,  too,  will  trust  him,  Mabel ;  for  I  know  that  j  ou 
must  have  well-founded  convictions  for  speaking  as  strongly 
as  you  do." 

"I  do  not  ask  you  to  go  that  far,  dear.  Let  me  think 
cf  some  plan.  You  say  that  Barclay  and  your  father  are 
friends.  We  will  consult  him  to-night ;  then,  if  he  thinks 
there  is  anything  in  it,  would  you  mind  asking  Harold 
to  look  into  the  matter?  Of  course,  he  will  be  interested, 
and  I  have  not  the  slightest  doubt  but  that  he  will  take 
my  view  of  the  case." 

"Yes,  that  will  be  the  best  course  to  pursue,"  Esther 
replied. 


228  A  GENTLEMAN  BORN. 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 

AT   BAY. 

THAT  evening  Perry  Barrington  was  sitting  alone  in 
the  library.  It  was  a  habit  he  had  cultivated  for  some 
years,  this  sequestering  himself  from  the  rest  of  fhe  fam.ly 
on  a  pretence  of  study  and  research.  And  only  when 
?.  change  to  his  Club  apartments  seemed  siiited  to  his  pur 
pose,  or  when  social  events  actually  demanded  his  presence, 
did  he  leave  his  sanctum. 

He  is  not  the  same  prosperous  looking  Perry  whom  we 
looked  in  upon  a  few  years  ago,  when  he  received  the  first 
shock  against  the  even  tenor  of  his  ways  in  the  meeting 
with  the  woman  Mildred.  Since  that  time  Guy  on  has 
crossed  his  path,  his  very  presence  a  constant  menace  to 
his  peace  of  mind,  not  to  speak  of  the  dread  lest  it  should 
all  come  out  at  any  moment,  and  he,  the  pious  church 
man,  the  prominent  bank  president,  the  acknowledged 
leader  at  the  Club  and  in  the  society  of  the  elders,  he 
must  don  a  felon's  garb.  With  all  this  mental  strain 
upon  him,  with  his  intrigue  to  draw  Guy  on  out  of  the 
upper  set  in  which  he  moved  and  consign  him  to  a  social 
and  moral  oblivion  from  which  he  could  never  emerge, 
his  forces,  both  mental  and  physical,  had  been  taxed  to 
such  a  degree,  that  he  was,  in  every  sense  of  the  word,  a 
wreck. 

Night  after  night  he  paced  his  chamber,  or  remained 
in  the  library,  performing  the  same  measured  tramp  up 
and  down,  until  the  concern  and  anxiety  of  Muriel  were 
aroused ;  then,  for  the  first  time,  she  remarked  his  haggard 


AT  BAT.  229 

appearance,  and  besought  him  with  all  the  warmth  of  her 
loving  nature  to  leave  the  city,  to  go  abroad  for  awhile. 
But  nothing  could  induce  him  to  leave  the  scene  until  the 
phantom  sword  had  vanished. 

Then  again,  he  had  been  brought  home,  not  very  long 
ago,  in  fact  about  two  weeks  prior  to  the  Brandon  affair, 
unconscious.  A  slight  stroke  of  paralysis,  the  physician 
pronounced  it;  but,  although  the  household  was  alarmed. 
Perry  treated  it  very  lightly,  and  was  up  and  around  in  a 
few  days.  His  thoughts  were  running  in  a  different 
channel  to-night.  The  appearance  of  Lord  Eichleigh, 
and  his  undisguised  admiration  for  Miss  Gordon,  had  sug 
gested  to  his  mind  a. very  excellent  opportunity  for  get 
ting  this  young  encumbrance  off  his  hands,  and  of  rais 
ing  himself  proportionately  in  society's  esteem. 

In  fact,  Lord  Eichleigh  had  that  very  day  called  upon 
him  and  made  a  formal  declaration  of  his  intentions 
towards  the  young  lady,  requesting  permission  to  make 
the  proper  advances,  all  of  which  was  readily  conceded. 
It  was  with  the  intention  of  conveying  this  information, 
that  he  sent  for  his  Ward,  after  having  settled  in  his  mind 
as  to  how  he  would  parley  with  her,  supposing  that  she 
had  received  the  letter  from  Barclay. 

"Your  Father  has  just  sent  for  me,  dear,"  said  Mabel, 
peeping  into  her  friend's  boudoir. 

"And  Harold's  just  come ;  so  I  can't  go  down  with  you. 
I  wonder  what  Papa  wants?  He  didn't  say  anything 
special  at  dinner,  did  he?" 

"No.     And  Hastings  says  he  must  see  me  alone." 

"You  will  ask  his  advice  about  the  letter,  dear,  won't 
you?" 

"Certainly,  and  don't  say  anything  about  it  to  Harold 
until  I  join  you.  You  don't  mind  my  coming  in,  this 
once  ?" 


230  A  GENTLEMAN  BORN. 

"Not  at  all.     We  aren't  engaged,  you  know." 

"I  must  go  now.  I'm  so  glad  that  Hal  has  come!" 
With  this  remark  she  tripped  lightly  down  stairs,  and 
having  knocked  at  the  library  door,  entered  in  response  to 
the  given  permission. 

"You  are  wondering  why  I  sent  for,  Mabel,  I  presume. 
Sit  down  beside  me,  child — here,  where  I  can  see  you. 
These  lights  are  a  trifle  glaring,  or  my  eye-sight  isn't  as 
good  as  it  used  to  be." 

"I  was  somewhat  puzzled  to  guess,  sir,  and  I'm  dying 
to  know." 

"Well,  dear,  you  are  my  Ward,  of  course.  That  is 
an  unnecessary  remark,  but  it  will  answer  the  purpose 
of  prelude  as  well  as  another.  Your  Father  was  a  warm 
friend  of  mine ;  and  in  confiding  your  riches  and — ahem ! 
yourself  to  my  guardianship,  he  imparted  a  sacred  trust, 
in  which.  I  hope,  I  have  not  failed  up  to  this  time." 

"Indeed  you  have  not.  You  have  been  just  lovely  to 
mo,  I  have  not  wanted  for  anything  nor  made  the  slight 
est  request  which  you  have  not  granted." 

"That's  all  very  well  as  far  as  it  goes,"  he  replied  with 
a  deprecatory  wave  of  his  hand.  "I  would  be  a  very  poor 
Christian,  did  I  not  conscientiously  attend  to  my  friend's 
dying  bequest.  I  myself  must  die  some  day,"  he  added, 
as  though  to  give  greater  solemnity  to  his  remarks. 

"So  must  we  all,  sir;  but  you  are  far  from  that  now,  I 
sincerely  trust." 

"Perhaps  not  as  far  as  you  imagine.  However,  it 
was  not  my  purpose  to  cloud  your  young,  buoyant  mind 
with  sinister  forebodings.  Coming  to  the  point,  I  wish 
to  see  you  settled  in  life  before  I  die." 

"That  is  decidedly  pointed,"  exclaimed  Mabel,  blushing 
slightly,  as  the  thought  of  what  might  be  coming  dawned 
upon  her. 


AT  BAY.  231 

"Among  the  many  gentlemen  you  have  met  in  New  York, 
during  your  sojourn  with  us,  there  certainly  must  be 
one  who  possesses  the  requirements  suited  to  your  lofty 
ideals." 

"I  don't  know,"  Mabel  murmured. 

"You  don't  know  ?  Then,  child,  you  must  be  extremely 
difficult  to  please.  Let  us  take,  for  example,  Lord  Rich- 
leigh,  a  gentleman  of  noble  lineage,  handsome  in  appear 
ance,  wealthy.  Can  you  desire  more  than  that?" 

"I  was  not  aware  that  his  Lordship  was  so  deeply  inter 
ested  in  me,  sir." 

"Nor  was  I  until  to-day,  although  anyone  might  have 
surmised  as  much  from  his  devoted  attention." 

"'Indeed !" 

"Listen,  Mabel ;  what  I  have  to  say  deserves  your  earnest 
consideration.  His  Lordship  called  upon  me  to  day, 
and  after  declaring  his  intentions,  asked  my  permission 
to  make  formal  request  for  your  hand." 

"Of  course  you  gave  your  consent  readily,"  said  Mabel 
quietly,  looking  her  guardian  full  in  the  eyes. 

"I  gave  it  with  the  most  heartfelt  good  will,  knowing  that 
in  bestowing  your  hand  and  your  future  happiness  into 
his  keeping,  I  was  performing  the  last  of  the  sacred  duties 
which  my  position  entails;  and  believing  that  he  is  most 
worthy  of  your  acceptance." 

"But  did  it  not  dawn  upon  you,  sir,  that  there  might 
be  a  possibility  of  my  refusing  him  ?" 

"Refuse  Lord  Eichleigh?"  Perry  exclaimed  with  a 
touch  of  passion  in  his  voice.  "You  are  surely  jesting. 
You  have  allowed  many  advantageous  offers  to  pass  by, 
I  know,  because  of  some  idle  sentiment,  some  foolish 
whim;  but  now,  a  real  English  Lord,  whom  half  the  so 
ciety  girls  are  crazy  over!  Surely  you  are  not  in 
earnest." 


232  A  GENTLEMAN  BORN. 

"Never  more  serious  in  my  life!  I  respect  the  gentle 
man,  I  am  pleased  with  his  society — but  there  must  be 
something  more  than  all  this,  a  higher,  purer  motive  to 
urge  me  to  accept  the  man  as  my  husband." 

"Stuff  and  nonsense !  I  suppose  you  mean  love.  Now 
really,  from  a  sensible  girl,  like  yourself,  such  a  state 
ment  is  ridiculous  in  the  extreme." 

"Do  you  think  so?  Then  I  am  sorry.  I  have  given 
my  answer,  sir,  and  let  us  consider  the  subject  as 
dropped." 

"Do  you  intend  to  thwart  me !"  cried  Perry,  rising  from 
his  chair  in  a  great  passion,  which  caused  him  to  for 
get  for  the  moment  his  hypocritical  acting.  "Have  a  care, 
Miss !  remember  you  are  my  Ward,  and " 

"'And  as  such  am  prepared  to  follow  your  guidance  to 
any  reasonable  length;  but  you  will  also  remember  that 
I  have  arrived  at  the  legal  age,  and  am  now  a  free  agent. 
Pardon  me,"  she  continued,  as  Perry  was  about  to  inter 
rupt  her;  "please  don't  be  angry  with  me.  I  would  really 
do  as  you  wish  if  I  were  able;  and  besides,  remember 
your  ill-health.  You  should  not  needlessly  excite  your 
self." 

"If  you  were  able!"  Perry  exclaimed  hoarsely,  sinking 
into  his  chair.  "'That  portends  a  previous  attachment. 
Will  you  favor  me  with  the  gentleman's  name?" 

"I  have  not  admitted  as  much;  nor  do  I  see  that  it  is 
necessary  for  me  to  give  a  name  which  may  have  no  more 
weight  with  me  than  Lord  Kichleigh's." 

"It  is  Mr.  Barclay,  perhaps,"  said  Perry;  "after  the 
English  nobleman,  I  know  of  none  to  whom  I  would  more 
readily  give  the  preference." 

"Do  not  mention  the  name  of  that  man,  sir !"  exclaimed 
Mabel,  all  the  warmth  of  her  Southern  nature  now  fully 
aroused.  "He  is  a  disgrace  to  society,  a  miserable  cur 


AT  BAT.  233 

whom  I  would  favor  with  a  horse-whipping  were  I  a 
man." 

"Ha,  ha !"  laughed  Perry.  "It  is  well  for  him  that  you 
are  not.  What  has  he  done  of  late  to  incur  your  gracious 
displeasure  ?" 

"Done?  Read  this,  and  tell  me  what  you  think  of  it," 
she  said,  handing  Perry  the  letter  she  had  received  that 
morning. 

He  read  the  epistle,  and  his  countenance  changed  from 
an  expression  of  the  deepest  hate  that  was  predominant 
when  he  knew  for  a  certainty  that  his  plot  had  miscarried, 
to  one  of  fiery  passion,  which  in  turn  was  mastered  by  his 
skilled  diplomacy.  It  was  with  a  look  of  half  careless 
merriment  and  sarcasm  that  he  turned  to  his  Ward. 

"I  don't  quite  understand  your  antagonism  towards  Bar 
clay,"  he  said.  "He  has  done  nothing  more  than  a  friend 
would  do  whose  interest  is  deeply  centered  in  your  welfare. 
Still,"  he  continued,  taking  up  the  letter  again,  as  though 
he  were  perusing  it  a  second  time,  "I  am  at  loss  to  know 
how  he  could  imagine  that  you  cared  for  the  man." 

"Nor  do  I,"  she  replied.  "But,  even  taking  that  for 
granted,  do  you  not  think  that  he  has  resorted  to  a  most 
despicable  means?  and  with  what  end  in  view?" 

"Possibly  to  gain  your  good  will." 

"He  does  not  know  me.  He  does  not  know  how  a  South 
ern  girl  can  feel." 

"Their  sentiments  are  deep  when  the  occasion  arises," 
ventured  Perry. 

"The  nobility  of  their  nature  abhors  trickery,  such  as 
this." 

"But,  my  dear,  this  is  not  trickery,  as  you  call  it.  As 
sume  that  you  care  for  McCarty,  which  is  nonsense,  Bar 
clay  gives  you  conclusive  proof  of  his  degraded  character." 

"What  you  assume  is  not  nonsense!"  Mabel  exclaimed, 


234  A   GENTLEMAN  BORN. 

rising  and  standing  now  before  her  guardian.  "I  have 
a  deep  regard  for  Mr.  McCarty,  and  I  believe  him  innocent 
of  these  base  charges." 

"Ah,  and  this  is  the  obstacle  in  the  way  of  your  ac 
cepting  Lord  Richleigh's  offer!  Really,  Miss  Gordon,  for 
a  young  lady  from  Virginia,  jour  choice  is  simply  re 
markable." 

"Then  you  believe  all  that  is  contained  in  the  letter- 

you "  with  a  little  sob — "who  I  thought  could  believe 

ill  of  no  man!  If  my  father  were  living,  he  would  tell 
me  what  to  do." 

"He  would,  I  am  confident,  give  you  this  advice,  my 
child.  Think  over  the  matter  soberly  to-night.  Pray 
the  Heavenly  Father  for  guidance,  and  'to-morrow,  you 
will  be  prepared  to  accept  Lord  Richleigh  when  he  calls." 

"Never!"  exclaimed  Mabel,  as  she  left  the  room,  "I 
shall  never  marry  any  man !" 

She  was  about  ascending  the  stairs  to  her  own  apartment, 
there  to  have  a  good  cry,  for  it  all  seemed  more  than  she 
could  bear,  when  Esther's  voice  from  the  drawing-room 
reminded  her  that  Harold  was  there.  He  was  Mr.  Mc- 
Carty's  friend.  She  would  listen  to  what  he  had  to  say, 
and  perhaps  be  guided  by  his  counsel. 

"We  were  afraid  you  would  never  come,"  cried  Esther, 
running  over  to  greet  her  friend  as  she  entered.  "What 
ever  has  happened,  darling?"  she  whispered.  "Has  Papa 
been  cross  ?  He  isn't  well,  you  know,  poor  Papa !" 

"It  is  nothing,  love.  I  am  a  bit  upset  about  the  let 
ter.  I'm  so  glad  to  see  you,  Harold/'  she  said  to  that 
gentleman,  who  was  standing,  awaiting  her  approach. 
"Are  you  two  certain  that  you  don't  mind  this  interrup 
tion?" 

"Not  in  the  least,  Mabel ;  I  have  been  trying  to  come 
to  terms  with  this  little  Miss,  but  she  will  have  nothing 


AT  BAT.  235 

but  a  quarrel  upon  the  trivial  cause  of  passing  a  day  or  so 
without  seeing  her." 

"You  should  be  delighted  that  she  thinks  so  .much  of 
you  as  to  want  to  see  you  often." 

"There  you  go,  May !  I  never  said  such  a  word !  He's 
just  horrid,  that's  all,  and  I've  a  mind  to  send  him  away 
for  good  and  all." 

"Now,  I'm  going  to  play  peacemaker  between  you," 
said  Miss  Gordon,  "and  bind  you  together  and  to  myself 
with  a  subject  more  serious  than  the  one  you  are  wasting 
words  over." 

"Oh,  yes !  I  had  forgotten  all  about  it.  Do  you  know 
Hal -" 

"Yes,  I  know  Hal,  and  he's  'just  a  horrid  creature.'  " 

"Peace,  children!  Now,  Harold,  read  this  letter.  It 
came  to  me  this  morning.  I  want  to  know  what  you 
think  of  it." 

"Think  of  it?"  cried  that  young  gentleman,  who  had 
hastily  devoured  the  contents,  and  made  sure  that  the 
handwriting  was  no  forgery,  "think  of  it — Pardon  me,  I 
must  get  my  hat  and  leave  at  once." 

"Where  are  you  going?"  asked  the  two  young  ladies, 
rising  at  once  and  obstructing  his  path. 

"I  am  going  to  shoot  the  cowardly  rascal  at  sight,  or 
he'll  shoot  me.  I'll  challenge  him — no,  I  won't,  I'll 

horsewhip  him!  Guyon  McCarty  a !  Bah!  He 

dared  not  write  that  to  me.  He  wrote  to  you,  Miss  Gordon, 
and  why,  I  wonder?" 

"Just  sit  down  like  a  sensible  person,  and  talk  it  over," 
said  Esther. 

"Oh,  I'm  sensible  enough!  but  I  can't  see  through  his 
motive." 

"'Never  mind  that,"  murmured  Mabel,  with  a  pretty 
blush.  "I  want  to  know  if  you  believe  it.  You  see,  he 
says  he  has  proof." 


236  A  GENTLEMAN  BORN. 

"He  says  that,  does  he?  Well,  I'll  find  him  out  and 
make  him  show  his  proof.  Do  you  really  care  so  much 
about  this,  Mabel  ?"  he  said,  turning  suddenly  toward  that 
young  lady. 

"Of  course  I  care.  Mr.  McCarty  has  been  in  our  society, 
you  introduced  him  first.  You  should  know  something 
about  his  character.  Then  he  has  always  appeared  as 
a  perfect  gentleman." 

"That  is  all !"  Harold  muttered,  as  though  speaking  to 
himself. 

"What  is  all?"  demanded  Mabel. 

"Oh,  nothing — I  was  just  thinking.  Yes,  I  am  certainly 
responsible  for  him,  and  I  stake  my  life  on  his  character 
as  a  gentleman,  one  equal  to  the  best  in  the  land." 

"Thank  yon,"  replied  Mabel  quietly,  giving  him  her 
hand  at  the  same  time;  while  the  depth  of  her  gratitude 
shone  so  plainly  in  her  beautiful  eyes,  that  Harold  began 
to  think  again,  and  was  only  awakened  from  his  abstrac 
tion  by  Esther  saying: 

"When  do  propose  to  'look  up'  Barclay  ?" 

"This  very  night !  I'll  go  to  the  Club  now.  You  will 
forgive  me  leaving  so  soon." 

"Yes,  Mabel  is  so  anxious." 

"Are  you  anxious,  Mabel?"  he  asked. 

"Yes,  foolish  boy,  please  go  now,  and  let  us  hear  from 
you  soon." 

"I'll  telephone  when  I  shall  have  heard." 

"No,  no,  come  yourself,"  whispered  Esther,  as  she  bade 
him  good-night. 

And  Harold  went  out  upon  his  quest  with  a  feeling 
in  his  heart  which  boded  no  good  for  Barclay  if  he  should 
come  across  him  •.  "Ha,  ha !"  he  thought,  "here's  luck  for 
Guy !  Shall  I  tell  him  ?  But  no,  I'm  not  certain.  She's 
anxious, — well,  that's  an  omen  at  least." 


MILDRED'S  STORY.  237 


CHAPTER  XXVII. 
MILDRED'S  STORY. 

FOR  several  days  Guyon  had  been  indulging  in  the  fas 
cinating  illusions  produced  by  the  opium  habit.  During 
all  this  time,  the  direful  effects  of  the  drug  had  steadily 
told  upon  his  once  healthful  constitution,  until  he  became 
a  shadow  of  his  former  self.  Still,  with  all  the  bitter 
ness  and  remorse  which  came  upon  him  in  his  lucid  in 
tervals,  the  memory  of  the  blissful  moments  he  enjoyed 
while  under  the  influence,  impelled  him  on  and  on  to  the 
point  where  it  seemed  he  must  lose  even  the  one  moral 
restraint  which  held  his  nobler  nature  in  check. 

Dimples  was  ever  his  attendant.  Her  full  beauty  of 
budding  womanhood,  enchanced  by  the  magnificent  cos 
tumes  she  always  donned  to  attract  him,  would  surely  have 
captivated  a  weaker  man;  but  thus  far,  although  he  was 
lavish  in  his  compliments,  and  had  a  true  admiration 
for  the  girl,  the  thought  of  Mabel  Gordon,  who  haunted 
his  most  delightful  visions,  precluded  any  sentiment  of 
love. 

Barclay,  too,  was  becoming  anxious  for  the  success  of 
his  scheme.  It  was  not  enough  for  him  that  he  gazed 
upon  his  rival  when  the  effects  of  the  drug  were  upon  him, 
and  saw  his  manly,  robust  frame  wasting  away,  his  hand 
some  countenance  disfigured  with  certain  marks  of  dis 
sipation,  and  his  eyes  losing  the  fire  of  keen  intelligence. 
No,  his  complete  ruin  must  be  accomplished !  And  that 
speedily ;  for  he  had  learned  from  Perry  Barringtonof  the  ill 
success  of  his  letter,  and  knew,  almost  for  a  certainty, 


238  A  GENTLEMAN  BORN. 

that  Miss  Gordon  had  rejected  the  English  nobleman  be 
cause  of  her  devotion  for  Guyon. 

One  afternoon  Guyon  made  his  appearance  at  Cen 
tral  Park  west,  dragging  himself  with  much  effort  up 
the  stairs  to  Dimples'  apartment,  where  she  was  await 
ing  his  coming. 

''Everything  ready  for  me?  he  asked,  scarcely  glancing 
at  her,  and  making  his  way  to  the  Oriental  room. 

"No,  Guy,  not  to-day,"  she  answered  softly,  placing 
herself  before  him.  "You  have  been  smoking  too  much; 
really,  you  are  in  an  awful  condition." 

"It  is  no  matter,"  he  replied  hoarsely,  grasping  the  back 
of  a  chair  to  steady  himself,  as  his  limbs  almost  refused 
to  sustain  his  weight.  "It's  no  matter.  Stand  aside, 
please !  I  must  have  the  drug,  I  cannot  live  without  it." 

"Well,  you  shall;  only  sit  down  beside  me  for  a  few 
moments.  We  haven't  had  a  good  talk  in  ever  so  long." 

"I  don't  care  to  talk,  but  you  are  mistress  here — if  you 
will  not  give  it  to  me  now,  I  must  wait;"  and  he  almost 
fell  into  an  easy  chair  which  Dimples  rolled  over  to  him. 
his  eyes  closing,  and  his  head  dropping  upon  his  breast, 
while  his  face  was  ashy  white. 

"There,  take  this  wine !  More  ?  I  believe  you  are  kill 
ing  yourself!  Won't  you  have  a  biscuit  with  it?" 

"Haven't  eaten  in  two  days!"  replied  Guyon,  slightly 
revived  by  the  wine. 

"Two  days!  Now,  that's  scandalous.  Just  a  minute. 
I'll  have  the  nicest  luncheon  you  ever  tasted,"  and  she 
touched  a  bell  summoning  the  maid  to  whom  she  gave  the 
directions  for  the  spread. 

"What  ever  is  the  matter  with  you,  Guy?  It  cannot  be 
all  because  of  the  opium  that  you  are  so  changed.  I  have 
seen  men  and  women,  too,  yes,  and  young  girls,  smoke 
the  drug,  and  it  didn't  effect  them  in  this  way," 


MILDRED' a  STORY.  239 

"Perhaps  not !  No,  the  smoking  doesn't  cause  the  whole 
of  it.  I'm  down,  way  down,  and  I  don't  care  what  be 
comes  of  me;  that's  the  truth!" 

"Nonsense,  you  with  all  your  wealth  and  youth,  and  the 
world  before  you?" 

"All  that  is  nothing  to  me  now." 

"Come !  eat,  drink  and  be  merry !  See  how  quickly  the 
luncheon  is  served.  You  will  talk  in  a  different  strain 
when  you  have  finished." 

"'Thanks  for  your  kindness  to  me,  Dimples,"  he  said 
warmly,  after  he  had  eaten  with  some  show  of  appetite  of 
the  delicate  viands  before  him,  and  sipped  a  glass  or  two 
of  champagne ;  "I  believe  I  do  feel  better." 

"Of  course !  Do  you  remember  the  night  when  we  were 
all  out  together?  Didn't  we  have  a  gay  time?" 

"Yes,  as  I  recall  it,  we  did." 

"You  didn't  feel  so  low-spirited  then  ?" 

"No." 

"And  didn't  you  say  that  you  enjoyed  it  most  of  all 
because  I  was  with  you?" 

"Did  I  ?  What  else  could  I.  say  when  you  were  the  life 
of  the  evening?" 

"And  our  little  supper,  the  first  night  you  hit  the  pipe, 
do  you  remember  that?" 

"Yes." 

"And  'oo  'ittle  baby  Dimples,"  she  said  softly,  putting 
her  arms  around  him  and  taking  his  hand  in  hers.  "I 
believe  you  actually  kissed  me  then." 

"How  could  I  do  otherwise?  It  reminded  me  so  forci 
bly  of  the  old  days  when  we  were  children  together,  when 
I  used  to  wheel  you  about  in  the  little  cart  I  made." 

"Don't  you  think  lots  of  me  now,  Guy?" 

"Of  course,  I  do ;  you  are  almost  the  only  friend  I  have. 
I  am  not  with  the  McCartys  now,  you  know." 


240  -A-  GENTLEMAN  BORN. 

"No,  you  haven't  left  them !"  exclaimed  Dimples,  almost 
stunned  as  she  thought  that  he  must  be  truly  insane  to 
give  up  this  one  source  of  wealth. 

"Yes,  I  took  a  vacation  for  a  couple  of  weeks,  and  I 
won't  go  back  in  this  condition.  Then  there  was  Harold 
Brandon,  he  was  a  great  chum,  but  I  haven't  seen  anything 
of  him  for  a  long  time." 

"You  don't  want  to  see  him,  either?" 

"No.  I've  got  a  bit  of  a  lodging  somewhere.  That's 
while  my  money  hangs  out — then  I  must  look  for  work 
if  I  am  able." 

"Come,  cheer  up !  take  another  glass,  Guy !  You've  got 
me ;  I  won't  go  back  on  you,  see  ?  We  can  get  along  first 
rate  together,  can't  we?" 

"On  what?" 

"Oh,  you  prosy  fellow!  on  love,  of  course!" 

"Love?  you  love  me?  No,  that's  too  absurd,  Dimples 
— Barclay  has  all  your  love,  hasn't  he?" 

"Not  a  bit  of  it!  Barclay  don't  count.  He  ain't  in 
it  now;  and  I  told  him  so." 

"There  must  have  been  a  scene,"  said  Guyon,  becoming 
interested  for  the  first  time. 

"Well,  there  was;  but  I  don't  care — I  only  love  you." 

"So  you  said  before ;  and  I  think  I  told  you  that  I  hadn't 
a  whole  heart  to  offer  you,  if  I  wished ;  besides,  I'm  a  poor 
man  now,  and  you  only  care  for  riches,  don't  you. 
honestly?" 

"Yes,  all  girls  do.  I  couldn't  work  if  I  tried — and, 
oh  I  I  forgot  to  tell  you  till  this  moment.  Do  you  know. 
I've  found  my  Mother?  She  came  here  the  other  day  after 
you  left.  She  told  me  lots  about  herself ;  she  was  an  actress 
once,  and  of  an  excellent  family.  Aren't  you  glad?" 

"Yes,  for  your  sake,  I  am  delighted.  Why  don't  you 
go  and  live  witty  tyer  ?" 


MILDRED'S  STOUT.  241 

"Live  with  her  ?     Not  much !  she  thinks  I'm  married." 

"Married  to  whom?" 

"That  don't  matter, — to  you  maybe." 

"To  me  ?  Great  Heavens,  Dimples !  this  is  playing  too 
serious  a  game.  Surely  you  didn't  deceive  your  Mother 
just  when  you  found  her." 

"Indeed  I  did.  What  was  the  use  of  worrying  her  when 
she  has  troubles  enough  of  her  own?  Do  you  know,  she 
wouldn't  tell  me  who  my  Father  is,  and  looked  so  sad 
when  1  spoke  of  him." 

"Did  she — perhaps  she  has  cause.  Poor  Dimples,"  said 
Guyon,  with  a  toiich  of  honest  sympathy,  "both  your 
own  and  your  mother's  fortunes  are  cast  in  difficult  paths, 
I  fear." 

"And  only  you  can  help  us,  Guy.  Please  don't  give 
up  your  hold  on  the  McCartys;  they're  so  rich,  you  know 
and  one  can  do  so  much  with  money." 

"With  money  and  love?  or  love  and  money?  I'll  think 
it  over,  Dimples.  Bah !  the  old  longing  is  coming  over 
me — please  fix  the  pipe — I  must  smoke  this  once,  if  I  never 
do  again." 

"Will  you  promise  me  to  try  to  love  me,  dear  ?"  she  asked 
as  she  led  the  way  to  the  room. 

"If  you  only  knew  what  you  ask !  but  this  is  no  time  for 
love-making.  The  pipe !  the  pipe !"  he  exclaimed,  throwing 
himself  upon  the  couch,  and  grasping  the  stem  when  she  had 
filled  it,  with  the  avidity  of  an  habitual  drunkard  seizing 
the  intoxicating  glass.  A  few  inhalations,  and  he  was 
under  the  influence. 

Dimples  stood  there  a  moment  watching  him.  "He 
must  love  me,"  she  murmured,  "he  must  marry  me !  After 
all  that  I  have  said  to  him,  after  fairly  begging  his  love 
- — if  he  don't — then  he  shall  feel  what  a  woman's  hatred  is 
when  it  is  once  aroused," 


A  GENTLEMAN  BORN. 

The  period  of  unconsciousness  was  somewhat  longer  this 
evening.  His  visions  were  not  so  brilliant,  but  they  ap 
peared  in  more  realistic  coloring,  more  tangible  than  any 
which  had  yet  visited  him.  He  was  just  struggling  in  the 
Sarkness,  those  after  moments  which  he  always  dreaded, 
when  the  sound  of  voices  came  to  him,  apparently  from 
two  persons  conversing  in  the  outer  apartment.  He  en 
deavored  to  rise,  but  he  was  unequal  to  the  task ;  so  he  could 
only  lie  there  concealed  from  view,  an  unwilling  listener 
to  the  conversation. 

"Yes,  my  poor  child."  he  heard  a  woman's  voice  saying, 
"since  you  ask  me  again,  I  will  tell  you  the  story  of  my 
past  life;  but  before  I  begin,  I  beg  of  you,  don't  judge 
your  mother  too  harshly.  If  I  have  sinned,  God  knows 
how  bitter  has  been  my  punishment,  and  how  fully  I  have 
repented." 

"Is  it  as  bad  as  that,  Mother?"  he  heard  Dimples'  voice 
questioning. 

"Yes,  child.  I  was  once,  like  yourself,  young,  beautiful 
and  attractive.  I  had  a  good  home  and  parents  who  idol 
ized  me,  their  only  daughter.  From  my  early  years  I  had 
a  passion  for  the  stage;  and  when  my  Father,  who  was 
a  minister,  heard  of  my  desire,  he  bade  me  not  think  of 
it — sent  me  to  a  seminary  for  young  ladies  in  a  remote 
country  place,  away  from  all  life  and  gaiety.  Imagine 
yourself  immured  in  such  a  school,  with  girls  whose  nar 
row,  prejudiced  minds  were  a  constant  source  of  irrita 
tion  to  me.  Well,  I  did  not  remain  there  long.  I  ran 
away  when  the  first  opportunity  presented  itself,  and 
sought  the  manager  of  a  theatrical  company  which  was 
appearing  in  a  neighboring  town.  Something  in  my  ap 
pearance  must  have  attracted  him;  for  he  engaged  me  at 
once  to  play  a  minor  part,  in  which,  even,  I  was  to  be 
an  understudy.  From  my  first  appearance  on  the  stage,  I 


MILDRED* 3  STORY.  243 

felt  that  I  was  in  my  proper  sphere.  Success  favored 
me ;  and  I  rose  to  be  one  of  the  leading  ladies  in  the  com 
pany. 

"We  were  playing  in  this  city  at  the  time,  and  it  was  here 
I  met  your  Father.  He  was  considerably  older  than  I, 
a  man  of  commanding  appearance,  and  whose  wealth 
seemed  boundless.  He  admired  me  from  the  first  time  he 
witnessed  my  performance.  Sent  me  flowers,  invited  me 
to  swell  suppers  where  wine  flowed  like  water,  made  me 
presents  of  jewels  and  money,  and  visited  my  rooms  fre 
quently.  I,  foolish  girl  that  I  was,  believed  that  he  was 
madly  in  love  with  me,  that  he  would  make  me  his  wife, 
as  he  surely  promised.  Then  came  the  time  when  you 
were  born.  My  love  for  him  was  only  mirrored  in  you. 
I  pleaded  with  him  to  fulfill  his  promise;  but  he  showed 
for  the  first  time  his  devilish  nature.  He  scorned 
me,  bade  me  put  you  away  if  I  would  have  him  con 
tinue  the  allowance  he  had  settled  upon  me.  During  two 
years  I  withstood  his  wrath;  and  then,  in  a  moment  of 
weakness,  I  yielded — parted  from  you,  my  own  darling, 
one  cold  December  night,  leaving  you  under  the  arches  of 
the  Brooklyn  Bridge,  with  a  prayer  in  my  heart  that,  if  it 
were  God's  will,  He  might  take  you  to  Himself,  since  I 
might  not  care  for  you.  It  was  a  cruel,  wicked  deed ;  and 
the  sorrow  it  caused  me  well-nigh  drove  me  to  acts  of 
violence  upon  myself,  as  I  have  already  told  you/ 

"Little  by  little,  I  drifted  from  the  stage.  My  trouble 
was  so  great  that  I  could  not  sustain  the  parts  I  was  called 
upon  to  act;  and  the  fickle  public,  which  had  once  raved 
over  me,  jeered  and  laughed  me  to  scorn  when  I  failed 
utterly  in  my  lines.  In  this  condition,  I  called  upon 
your  Father  one  day  at  his  office.  Never  will  I  forget  the 
meeting.  It  had  been  a  long  time  since  I  saw  him  then, 


244  A  GENTLEMAN  BORN. 

and  this  was  the  last.  Never  shall  I  set  my  eyes  upon  him 
again  until  we  appear  hefore  the  great  just  Judge." 

"'Poor  Mother!"  said  Dimples.  "Did  he  treat  yo-i  so 
badly  after  all  your  love  for  him?" 

"Treat  me  badly?  He  reviled  me,  laughed  at  me  vhen 
I  threatened  to  expose  his  villainy  to  his  family,  to  the 
Church  of  which  he  is  a  prominent  member,  and  to  so 
ciety  in  which  he  is  a  leading  figure." 

"He  did  this!"  cried  Dimples,  in  a  rage;  "he  dared  to 
insult  you?  And  what  did  you  say  to  him?" 

"I,  what  could  I  say?  When  he  spurned  my  one  last 
supplication  and  replied  to  my  appeal  with  coarse  sarcasm. 
I  cursed  him ;  and  I  said  that  my  wrong  would  be  visited 
upon  his  head  with  double,  yes,  triple  measure." 

"His  name,  his  name !"  cried  Dimples  wildly. 

"His  name,  child,  one  which  is  most  respected,  and 
which  a  woman  all  too  noble  for  him  bears,  and  a  daugh 
ter,  too,  not  much  older  than  yourself,  is  Perry  Barring- 
ton." 


IN  VIRTUE'S  CAUSE.  245 


CHAPTER  XXVIII. 
IN  VIRTUE'S  CAUSE. 

a  word  of  this  sad  recital  escaped  Guyon.  At 
times,  it  seemed  as  though  he  were  still  under  the  influ 
ence  of  the  opium,  and  that  what  he  heard  was  connected 
with  some  fatal  scene  in  his  life;  then  came  the  enuncia 
tion  of  that  name — Perry  Barrington,  the  guardian  of  the 
object  of  his  affections.  With  almost  superhuman  effort, 
he  arose  from  the  couch,  and  without  a  word  of  warning, 
appeared  before  the  women  in  the  drawing-room  as  some 
awful  spectre,  pale  with  the  color  of  death,  his  eyes  sunken 
and  hollow. 

Mildred  uttered  a  scream  of  affright,  at  which  Dimples 
laughed,  and  beckoned  Guyon  to  approach. 

'"This  is  no  ghost,  Mother.  It  is  only  my  friend,  Mr. 
McCarty." 

"Your  friend?"  said  Mildred,  "I  am  pleased  to  meet 
you,  sir,  if  you  are  truly  a  friend  to  my  daughter.'* 

"Why,  certainly  he  is,  Mother.  He  saved  me  the  very 
night  you  abandoned  me." 

"He  saved  you?  Impossible!  he  must  have  been  but  a 
child  himself  at  that  time." 

"That  is  true,  Madam,  I  was;  but  it  is  likewise  a  fact 
that  another  boy  and  myself  found  your  daughter.  And 
now  that  we  are  acquainted,  permit  me  to  beg  your  pardon 
for  my  intrusion.  I — I  am  not  well.  I  was  reclining 
on  a  couch  in  an  adjoining  room,  and  unwillingly  heard 


246  A  GENTLEMAN  BORN. 

your  sad  story.  It  was  only  upon  the  mention  of  that 
name  that  I  summoned  what  little  strength  I  possess  to 
make  my  presence  known  to  you." 

"Your  apology  is  scarcely  needed,  sir.  I  feel  that  I 
can  trust  you.  In  fact  I  am  certain  that  I  can,  since 
it  was  through  your  instrumentality  that  I  am  permitted 
to  embrace  my  child  again.  Do  you  know  this  man.  who 
has  played  such  havoc  with  my  life?" 

"Know  him?  Yes, — I  have  met  him  socially  at  his 
home  and  elsewhere.  I  can  assure  you,  I  am  at  a  loss 
to  account  for  the  seeming  duplicity  of  his  life.  No 
one  in  this  city  possesses  a  name  further  removed  from 
reproach  than  he." 

"Still,  it  is  so,"  replied  Mildred.  "I  am  willing  to  repeat 
what  I  have  said  under  the  most  solemn  oath.  God  above  is 
the  witness  to  the  truth  of  my  statement." 

''Strange!"  thought  Guyon,  "Dimples,  Barrington's 
child,  only  a  year  or  so  younger  than  his  daughter  Esther ;" 
— then  aloud:  "'What  a  terrible  shock  it  will  be  to  his 
family  if  this  is  made  public." 

"You  must  respect  my  secret,  at  least  for  the  present," 
said  Mildred.  "Although  I  loathe  the  man,  and  my  curse 
rests  upon  him,  I  would  not  have  my  injuries  visited  upon 
the  innocent." 

"I  think  you  are  very  foolish  in  that,  Mother,"  broke 
in  Dimples  a  little  impatiently.  "Supposing  he  should 
die  without  making  any  provision  for  me  ?  We  could  make 
him  do  that,  I  think." 

"I  had  not  considered  that  part.  You  may  go  to  him 
if  you  wish,  dearest;  but  I  warn  you,  your  reception  will 
not  be  the  most  pleasant." 

"Oh,  leave  that  to  me !  I  think  that  I  can  manage  him, 
if  I  try." 

"God  grant  that  he  may  not  injure  you,  dear.     He  is  a 


IN  VIRTUE'S  CAUSE.  247 

passionate  man,  when  aroused.     Now,  I  must  leave  you. 
I  have  a  matter  of  business  calling  me  away." 

"So  soon,  Mother?  Why,  you  have  made  only  a  short 
call/'  said  Dimples,  rising  and  assisting  her  Mother  with 
her  wraps. 

"It  may  seem  so ;  but  I  have  been  here  nearly  two  hours. 
You  do  not  wish  me  to  remain  because  of  your  friend," 
she  whispered. 

"Oh,  dear  no!  Guy  and  I  were  tots  together,  and  are 
like  brother  and  sister  now,  you  know." 

"I  am  delighted  that  you  have  a  good  friend  as  well  as 
a  good  husband.  Come  to  me  at  any  time,  darling !"  Then 
to  Guyon — "I  trust  that  I  shall  see  you  again,  sir.  If  I 
do  not,  my  earnest  prayer  shall  be  for  your  welfare,  that 
you  may  become  well  and  strong.  I  can  never  forget 
what  you  have  done  for  my  daughter  and  for  me." 

"Isn't  she  a  dear?"  asked  Dimples,  after  her  Mother's 
departure.  "And  to  think  of  all  she  has  suffered  because 
of  that  man — Ugh !  I  could  kill  him !" 

"He  will  meet  his  punishment  sooner  or  later,  believe 
me,  Dimples,  unless  everything  is  going  wrong  in  the 
world." 

"Heigho !  heigho !  let's  think  of  something  more  pleasant. 
Have  a  glass  of  wine  with  me.  dear?  Then  you  can  lie 
on  the  couch  here,  and  I  will  sit  beside  you.  To  our 
closer  friendship !"  she  said,  raising  the  glass  to  her  lips. 

"To  your  beauty !"  he  replied  gallantly,  as  his  eyes  met 
hers.  "This  is  comfortable,"  he  said,  throwing  himself 
upon  the  softest  of  cushions,  where  there  was  just  room 
enough  for  Dimples  to  sit  at  his  side. 

"Would  you  like  me  to  sing  a  bit  of  a  French  song  I 
learned  when  I  first  went  on  the  stage?" 

"Good !  You  won't  mind  if  I  close  my  eyes  while  you  are 
singing  it?" 


248  A  GENTLEMAN  BORN. 

"Close  your  eyes  while  mine  are  looking  into  yours  ?  For 
shame,  Guy  dear!  Is  my  beauty  growing  tiresome?" 

"No,  not  that — I — I — don't  think  the  effects  of  the 
last  pipe  are  all  gone;  then,  the  strange  story  I've 
heard " 

"Bother  the  story !"  Dimples  said,  as  she  poured  out  more 
wine  in  a  glass,  and,  drinking  a  part  of  it,  said :  "Here, 
don't  you  want  a  drink  out  of  my  glass  ?  Not  there !  my 
lips  have  touched  it  on  this  side." 

"And  your  song !"  Guyon  murmured  dreamily. 

"Oh,  yes.  Now,  try  to  look  right  into  my  eyes  while 
I  sing.  I  won't  hypnotize  you — don't  be  afraid ;"  and  she 
sang  in  a  soft  low  tone : 

"Dc  quoi  puis-je  avoir  en-vie, 
De  quoi  puis-je,  avoir  effroi, 
Que  ferai-je  de  la  vie, 
Si  tu  n'es  plus  pr6s  moi; 
Que  veux-te  que  je  de  vienne, 
Si   je   n'entends   plus   ton   pas, 
Est-ce  ta  vie  ou  ia  mienne " 

"Ha !  ha !  Mr.  Harold,  I  think  this  is  sufficient  proof  of 
what  my  letter  divulged !"  exclaimed  Barclay,  entering  the 
room  at  that  moment  accompanied  by  Harold  Brandon. 
"Here  is  your  friend,  Mr.  McCarty,  in  a  rather  strange 
situation — ah6m !  don't  you  think  so  ?" 

Harold  stood  at  the  door,  as  though  hesitating  whether 
to  retreat  or  advance.  It  was  certainly  a  critical  moment 
in  Guyon's  life.  Dimples,  at  the  entrance  of  the  gentlemen 
had  stopped  short  in  her  song,  and  rising  from  the 
couch,  stood  now,  not  at  all  abashed,  glancing  defiantly 
from  one  to  the  other. 

"Well,  are  you  satisfied  ?"  continued  Barclay.  "Here  is  the 
evidence.  This  young  person,  whom  I  cannot  introduce 
to  you,  will  probably  corroborate  my  assertion  of  your 


IN  VIRTUE* 8  CAUSE.  249 

friend's  (  ?)  rather  luxurious  pastimes  during  the  last  few 
weeks." 

"Is  this  really  true?  Young  woman,"  queried  Harold, not 
advancing  a  step  nearer  to  the  couch,  "are  you  Mr.  Mc- 
Carty's  Mistress ?— Speak,  in  Heaven's  name!" 

"Sir,  it  is  a  lie !  This  bringing  you  here  is  but  a  part 
of  a  cleverly  laid  plot,  which  this  man  contrived,  to  ruin 
my  friend's  good  name.  Mr.  McCarty  has  been  smoking 
opium.  He  was  brought  here  first  by  Barclay.  He  con 
tracted  the  habit,  and  is  now,  from  its  effects,  the  wreck 
you  behold.  Otherwise,  he  is  as  good  a  man,  maybe  better, 
than  you  yourself." 

"You  call  yourself  his  friend.  How  do  you  come  by 
that  title?" 

"Hal,  this  is  Dimples,  whose  early  history  I  have  told 
you." 

"Oh,  I  was  not  aware  that  your  friend  had  made  his 
amours  known  to  you  before,  Mr.  Brandon." 

"Silence,  wretch !  It's  false,  false  as  hell !"  cried  Guyon, 
endeavoring  to  rise  from  the  couch,  only  to  fall  back 
again  exhausted.  "Hal,  you  remember  me  speaking  of  the 
baby  girl  whom  Biglin  and  I  found  when  I  was  a  small 
lad?— This  is  she." 

"Is  it  really  true,  Miss  Dimples,"  said  Harold,  approach 
ing  now  and  holding  out  his  hand,  while  she  withheld  hers 
for  a  moment. 

"Do  you  believe  what  I  have  said?"  she  asked.  "Do  you 
believe  that  Guy's  name  is  not  tarnished?" 

"As  God  is  my  Judge,  I  do,"  replied  Harold  solemnly. 
"He  was  brought  to  your  apartments  by  Barclay,  you  say ; 
you  were  wrong  in  encouraging  him  to  smoke  the  drug." 

"I  know  that  now ;  but  Barclay  obliged  me  to  become  his 
tool  in  this  disreputable  business,  promising  me  that,  if 
we  succeeded,  he  would  marry  me." 


250  A  GENTLEMAN  BORN. 

"And  you  believed  him!" 

"At  first  I  did — but,  oh,  I  cannot  tell  you  all — I  have 
just  found  my  Mother,  sir.  I  have  learned  the  story 
of  her  bitter  wrongs,  and  I  love  her.  Guy  on  saved  my  life ! 
How  could  I  sacrifice  him  after  that?" 

"You  dare  say  all  this,  you !"  hissed  Barclay ;  "you 

shall  repent  of  it  to  your  last  hour !" 

"Silence,  wretch !"  cried  Harold.  "You  have  committed 
one  of  the  most  heinous  crimes  man  can  be  guilty  of.  Deep 
in  your  hatred  for  this  man,  who  has  never  wittingly  in 
jured  you,  you  have  contrived  to  basely  slander  his  good 
name,  to  lower  his  character  to  a  level  with  your  own; 
and  as  your  instrument,  forsooth,  you  have  used  this  young 
girl,  once  innocent  and  free  as  the  summer  breezes;  but. 
by  your  dastardly  conduct  reduced  to  a  pitiful  condi 
tion.  These  crimes  I  am  prepared  to  avenge.  Speak; 
base  creature!  confess  the  motive  of  your  plot  or  I  will 
shoot  you,  so  help  me  God !" 

"Harold,  Harold,  don't  do  that!"  cried  Guyon,  rising 
again  with  an  effort,  and  struggling  to  his  friend's  «<de. 
"Don't,  for  my  sake." 

"Guyon,  are  you  mad  ?  You  don't  know  me — you  don't 
know  half  that  he  has  attempted  against  your  good  name. 
Why  do  you  suppose  I  am  here?  How  did  I  obtain 
the  information  ?  From  a  lady  whose  pure  name  I  would 
not  breathe  in  this  atmosphere.  From  her,  and  from  an 
infamous  letter  he  wrote  concerning  you." 

"I  see  it  all !"  Guyon  exclaimed.  "My  God,  how  horrible ! 
There  is  nothing  left  for  me  now." 

"Be  quick,  Barclay !"  cried  Harold,  "your  moments  are 
numbered.  If,  before  I  count  three,  you  do  not  confess, 
you  are  a  dead  man." 

"Work  your  will,  I  am  at  your  mercy,"  replied  Barclay, 
all  show  of  bravado  gone  from  him  now.  "What  my  ob- 


IN  VIRTUE'S  CAUSE.  251 

ject  was  in  degrading  this  man,  I  refuse  to  tell;  but  if 
you  act  with  any  justice,  you  must  include  in  your 
vengeance  another  who  instigated  the  plot,  and  at  whose 
suggestion,  I  carried  it  out." 

"His  name/''  hissed  Guyon. 

"His  name !"  thundered  Harold. 

"Perry  Barrington." 

"It's  false.     I  cannot  believe  it,"  said  Harold. 

"Very  well,  believe  it  or  not,  it  matters  little  to  me. 
What  have  I  to  gain  by  implicating  him  in  this?  His 
anger,  and  the  loss  of  all  my  chances  to  the  hand  of 
his  Ward." 

"Ah !  the  motive  for  it  all  dawns  upon  me,"  said  Harold. 
"You  two  conspired  to  heap  odium  upon  this  gentleman's 
name  and  character  in  the  hope  that  he  might  be  ousted 
out  of  your  way.  Why  did  you  not  kill  him  at  oncer" 

"Oh,  we  leave  that  to  such  polished  gentlemen  as  you," 
Barcla3r  retorted. 

"Silence !  I  will  spare  your  life.  It  were  too  dishonor 
able  in  me  to  soil  my  hands  with  such  blood  as  yours." 

"Bad  as  it  is,  your  fine  friend  here,  cannot  boast  of 
better,  I  presume." 

"Let  us  go,  Harold,"  said  Guyon.  "I  cannot  bear  these 
insults  in  my  shattered  state.  When  I  shall  have  re 
covered,  villain,  I  promise  you  a  horse-whipping  such  as 
man  never  received,  though  I  have  to  follow  you  to  the 
end  of  the  earth  to  administer  it." 

"I  shall  be  delighted  to  meet  you  anywhere  at  any  time. 
Mr.  Nobody  from  Nowhere." 

Harold  and  Guyon  descended  the  stairway;  he  leaning 
upon  his  friend  for  support.  When  they  had  reached 
the  street,  the  cold,  brisk  air  somewhat  revived  him;  ;nd. 
as  the  were  entering  the  coach,  which  was  waiting,  Harold 
asked  whither  he  wished  to  go. 


252  A  GENTLEMAN  BORN. 

"To  my  lodgings,  Hal;  there  is  no  other  place  for  me 
st  present/' 

"Your  lodgings?     Where  in  Heaven's  name  are  thfcv?" 

"A  little  attic  room  on  Charles  Street." 

"Tell  me  how  this  has  come  about?"  said  Harol1  as 
they  were  driving  to  the  above  location.  "Are  your  finances 
so  low  that  you  are  obliged  to  live  in  poverty?  ilave 
you  left  the  kind  old  Contractor  ?" 

Then  Guyon  told  the  story,  how  he  had  become  more 
than  ever  dejected  after  the  night  at  his  house ;  of  his  leav 
ing  home  for  a  vacation,  his  meeting  with  Barclay,  his 
first  experience  at  opium  smoking,  and  how  the  h:ibit 
gradually  grew  upon  him,  leaving  him  in  his  present  ton- 
dition. 

"You  see,  Hal,  I  hadn't  much  money  when  I  started 
out;  then,  living  at  the  Club  is  pretty  expensive;  avid  I 
found  at  the  end  of  a  week  that  I  must  curtail  some 
where,  or  I  would  be  out  on  the  streets  again.  So.  the 
only  thing  left  was  to  secure  a  cheap  lodging.  It's  not 
much  of  a  place  after  what  I've  been  used  to  all  these 
years,  but  it's  away  ahead  of  what  I  had  when  I  W..R  a 
little  fellow,"  he  concluded  with  an  attempt  at  a 
smile. 

"Do  you  know,  Guy,  I'm  half  inclined  to  be  angry  with 
you.  What  has  become  of  all  my  advice  to  you  about 
giving  way  to  those  melancholy  moods?  And  whit  is 
left  of  our  friendship?  Was  it  so  completely  annihilated 
that  you  could  not  come  to  me  in  your  extremity?" 

"Go  to  you  when  I  was  a  prey  to  the  opium?  You 
would  have  dissuaded  me  from  its  use,  as  most  probably 
you  will  now.  I  could  not  have  lived  without  it  then. 
Why,  the  visions  were  all  that  made  life  worth  living." 

"Shall  I  tell  him  now  the  glad  tidings?"  thought  Har- 


IN  VIRTUE'S  CAUSE.  253 

old, — "No,  if  I  were  only  certain — but  they  might  only 
arouse  a  hope  which  would  be  destined  to  be  blighted." 

'Ms  this  the  place?"  he  asked,  as  the  coach  stopped  be 
fore  an  ancient  frame  building  which  had  been  a  irood 
living  place  in  its  time,  some  fifty  years  ago,  but  was  now 
falling  to  decay. 

"Yes.  Do  you  want  to  come  up  ?  I  think  I  can  manage 
all  right,  the  mistress  of  the  house  is  kind  to  me." 

"Nonsense !  I  am  here,  and  shall  remain  with  you  until 
you  are  in  a  condition  to  go  home.  Come  on ! — You  need 
not  wait,  James,"  he  said  to  his  coachman.  "Tell  the 
Madam  that  I  will  telephone  if  I  am  detained." 

And  he  entered  Guyon's  temporary  abode,  climbing  with 
him  three  nights  of  rickety  stairs,  until  they  arrivid  at 
last  at  what  had  once  been  an  attic  store-room,  where,  the 
bare  rafters  showed  inhospitably  above,  and  one  small  win 
dow  at  one  end  of  the  place,  gave  an  unsufficient  light. 
A  cot,  a  small  table,  a  chair  and  an  old  stove  in  which  a 
smaller  fire  endeavored  to  burn,  was  all  the  furniture  the 
room  boasted  of. 

"You  are  welcome  to  'Guyon's  flat/  "  said  Guy.  "Take 
a  seat  if  you  please ;"  and  he  threw  himself  upon  the  bed, 
shivering  with  the  cold. 

"You  see,  Guy,  there's  not  one  particle  of  sense 
in  all  this,"  said  Harold,  after  he  had  procured  odd 
comforts  in  the  shape  of  a  roaring  fire  and  a  pair  of  olean 
blankets.  "I  have  tried  to  make  you  a  bit  more  Com 
fortable,  and  now  1  want  you  to  divert  your  thovghts 
into  a  more  pleasant  channel." 

"It's  no  use,  Hal.  You  are  far  too  kind,  I  know,  think 
ing  always  of  me — I  don't  deserve  such  treatment !  Why 
don't  you  leave  me!" 

"Leave  you?  Never!  Cheer  up,  Guy,  I've  great  news 
for  you.  It  was  in  my  mind  to  tell  you  when  we  were 


254  A  GENTLEMAN  BORN. 

driving  here  from  that  accursed  place;  but  I  considered 
it  better  not  to  reveal  it  then — perhaps  I  am  wrong  in 
doing  so  now;  however,  in  your  state,  I  feel  that  good 
news  is  the  best  medicine." 

"Have  you  really  heard  anything?  In  pity,  tell  me, 
Hal,  don't  keep  me  longer  in  suspense.  Has  Biglin  learned 
of  my  parents?" 

"No,  Guy,  it  isn't  that.  It's  better,  even,  perhaps. 
Are  vou  strong  enough  to  hear  what  your  heart  yearns 
for?'' 

"I  don't  believe  it  can  be  as  good  as  that,  Hal !  No, 
spare  me,  if  you  are  truly  my  friend !  Don't  torture  me 
with  vain  hopes!" 

"It's  only  the  faintest  glimmer  of  a  gleam,  old  fellow; 
yet  who  knows  but  that  the  ray  may  portend  the  dawn 
of  truest  happiness?" 


SIFTS  IN  THE  CLOUDS.  255 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 

EIFTS  I3ST  THE  CLOUDS. 

"Our  with  it,  Hal!  I  feel  immensely  better  already, 
since  you  have  spoken  those  words.  Perhaps,  as  you  say, 
it  is  a  rift  in  the  perpetual  clouds  which  have  darkened 
my  life  so  far — at  least,  God  grant  that  it  may  be  so!" 

"What  I  have  to  say  is  simply  this.  You  remember 
my  speaking  of  the  letter  Barclay  sent  to  Miss  Gordon." 

"All  too  well !  His  plans  were  cleverly  laid,  and  I  can 
not  imagine  how  they  miscarried." 

"Through  no  fault  of  his  or  of  Barrington's  either,  if 
we  may  believe  him." 

"What  can  Mr.  Barrington  have  against  me?" 

"Nothing  that  I  can  surmise,  except,  as  I  said  before, 
that  he  feared  you  would  enter  the  race  for  his  Ward's 
hand." 

"I  never  told  you  of  meeting  him  one  afternoon  at  New 
port,  and  of  the  glance  of  hatred  he  gave  me  ?" 

"No;  is  that  possible?  What  had  you  done  to  him 
then  ?" 

"No  injury  that  I  am  aware  of.  He  was  driving  along 
the  road  to  Beaucliff,  when  I  appeared  suddenly.  His 
horses  shied,  and  he  raised  his  whip  as  though  to  cut  me 
with  the  lash;  then,  seeing  that  it  was  I,  his  countenance 
assumed  a  look  of  deadliest  hatred." 

"Maybe  you  only  imagined  it,  Guy.  Let  us  forget  the 
incident  for  the  present.  You  can  settle  it  with  him 


256  A   GENTLEMAN  BORb. 

together  with  the  other  score  when  you  pay  your  respects 
to  him." 

"And  the  letter,  Hal,  you  were  at  the  Barrington  man 
sion  when  it  arrived?" 

"No,  I  chanced  to  call  that  evening.  Miss  Gordon  came 
into  the  drawing-room  from  an  interview  with  her 
guardian.  I  can  tell  you,  I  never  saw  her  so  much  affected. 
She  did  not  tell  us  what  had  transpired;  but  showed  me 
the  letter,  and  asked  what  I  thought  of  it." 

"You  did  not  think  that  I  could  have  fallen  so  low." 

"I?  No,  indeed.  I  was  mighty  wroth;  and  if  Barclay 
had  been  around,  his  chances  of  escape  would  have  been 
small.  Well,  it  would  have  done  your  heart  good  to  have 
heard  her  eulogies  (?)  of  Barclay,  and  what  she  said  of 
another  gentleman,  whose  name  it  is  not  necessary  to  men 
tion." 

"She  did  not  believe  it?" 

"Not  for  a  moment !  My  red-hot  manner,  my  losing  my 
head  over  it,  only  served  to  intensify  her  feeling." 

"Is  that  all,  Hal?" 

"All?  What  more  would  you  have?  Could  the  young 
lady  declare  to  me  that  she  loved  you,  and  desired  me  to 
champion  your  cause  for  that  reason?" 

"No,  she  could  not  do  that.  The  very  fact  that  she 
trusts  me,  is  much  more  than  I  expected.  If  I  had  only 
known  before  that  she  cared  never  so  little  for  me,  I  should 
have  been  saved  all  this  misery  and  self-degradation." 

"Yes;  but  you  have  not  gone  too  far  yet.  Come  away 
with  me  for  a  few  weeks ;  leave  all  the  past  behind !  Let 
me  see — we  might  take  a  trip  to  Lakewood.  I  happen  to 
know  of  an  excellent  place  there,  where  we  can  put  up. 
You  will  return  a  new  man,  prepared  to  seek  the  object 
of  your  devotion,  and  enter  into  new  projects  for  the  future 
with  a  mighty  zeal," 


RIFTS  IN  THE  CLOUDS,  257 

"That  is  best,  I  suppose;  but  I  have  no  funds;  besides, 
my  vacation  is  completed,  and  the  good  old  contractor  will 
be  looking  for  me." 

"Leave  all  that  in  my  hands.  I  shall  become  your 
banker  for  a  short  time,  and  will  enjoy  the  outing  im 
mensely.  I  will  call  at  the  McCarty  residence,  and  ex 
plain  that  you  require  an  extended  leave  of  absence." 

"Again  you  overwhelm  me  with  kindness,  my  dear  fel 
low,"  Guy  on  exclaimed,  grasping  his  friend's  hand  warmly. 

After  a  little  more  conversation,  in  which  some  minor 
incidentals  relative  to  the  outing  were  discussed,  Harold 
left,  promising  to  return  the  following  morning,  when  he 
expected  to  find  his  chum  prepared  to  bid  adieu  to  his 
humble  abode. 

So  Guyon  went  to  Lakewood.  The  exhilarating  atmos 
phere  of  this  charming  resort,  even  in  winter,  could  not 
fail  to  prove  beneficial  to  his  shattered  health.  He  had 
an  object  to  live  for  now;  and  his  buoyant  spirits  rose 
in  proportion  as  his  bodily  vigor  returned. 

There  were  times  when  the  craving  for  the  opium  came 
strong  upon  him,  and  he  begged  Harold  to  procure  it; 
but  a  word  of  gentle  remonstrance,  or  a  reminder  of  his 
purpose,  served  to  strengthen  his  will  power  and  gain 
complete  victory  in  the  end.  After  two  weeks,  he  was  able 
to  go  about,  taking  long  walks  among  the  picturesque 
scenes,  grand  in  their  winter  coloring.  Then,  his  step 
became  firmer,  and  a  ruddy  hue  of  health  replaced  the 
ghastly  pallor.  His  eyes,  too,  regained  their  wonted 
brightness,  and  shone  now  with  a  new,  peculiar  expression, 
telling  the  peace  that  was  fast  spreading  over  his  soul. 

His  return  to  the  McCarty  home  was  a  cause  of  much 
joy  to  the  good  old  gentleman,  while  Mrs.  McCarty  was 
unstinted  in  praise  of  Harold,  when  she  learned  how  he 
had  cared  for  Guyon.  Nothing  would  do  but  he  must, 


258  A  GENTLEMAN  BORN. 

at  least,  pass  one  evening  with  them;  although  he  was 
anxious  to  visit  Esther,  and  relate  the  fuller  details  of 
Guy  on' s  recovery. 

"Faith,  ye  hasn't  been  in  me  house  in  a  long  time,  an' 
we'"re  wantin'  ter  thank  ye  fer  phwat  ye've  done  fer  me 
b'y,  though  we  ain't  great  at  entertainin'  like  yere  folks. 
at  all." 

"John !"  the  Missus  cried,  with  a  killing  glance. 

"That  settles  it,  Mrs.  McCarty,"  Harold  replied,  hastily 
coming  to  the  old  gentleman's  rescue.  "I  will  stay  a 
little  while;  but  you  must  remember  that  my  own  people 
and  my  friends  haven't  seen  me  in  ages." 

"An'  yer  swateheart,  maybe  it  is,  b'y — out  wid  it  now! 
an'  don't  be  ashamed  at  all." 

"You  would  make  an  excellent  Yankee,  sir,  guessing 
my  secret  so  well.  Yes,  I  am  pining  to  see  her." 

"An'  Guy  here,  wastin'  all  his  time  wid  findin'  out  his 
folks,  an'  niver  lookin'  a  gerrnl  in  the  face.  Bad  cess  ter 
him !  Whin  I  wus  his  age,  I  had  as  many  swatehearts  as  I 
cud  shake  a  stick  at." 

"John,  you  are  exaggerating!  you  know  it  is  not  so;" 
Mrs.  McCarty  .interrupted. 

"Can't  ye  take  a  bit  of  a  joke,  Mary?  But  es  I  wus 
sayin',  Mr.  Brandon,  can't  ye  hunt  up  a  swateheart  fer 
Guy,  I  dunno  ?" 

"I  think  that  he  is  capable  of  hunting  one  up  for  him 
self.  How  about  it,  Guy?" 

"Doubtless.  Only  I  cannot  see  why  you  should  be  so 
anxious  to  get  me  out  of  the  way,  Dad;  for  when  I  am 
married,  I  shall  have  to  leave  you." 

"Divil  a  bit  of  a  lave  it'll  be!  Even  the  Missus 
wouldn't  mind  havin'  a  trim  little  lass  bossin'  her,  would 
ye  now,  Mary?" 

"I  think  it  proper  for  young  married  people  to  leave 


RIFTS  IN  THE  CLOUDS.  259 

the  old  parent  nest,"  replied  the  Missus,  with  a  touch  of 
asperity  which  boded  no  good  to  any  "young  lass"  who 
should  attempt  to  dispute  her  sovereignty. 

"Be  gad,  we'll  say  no  more  about  it,  thin ;  only,  now  that 
I  think  of  it,  an'  I  dunno  phwat  put  the  gerruls  in  me 
head  an'  that  very  thing  out  of  it — there's  a  letter-  some- 
phwere  here  fer  ye,  Guy,  addressed  in  a  lady's  hand. 
Phwere  is  it  now,  Mary?" 

"You  are  always  fretting  about  something.  Why  can't 
you  let  Guyon  and  his  friend  enjoy  the  evening?  To 
morrow  will  do  for  the  letter." 

"I  would  like  very  much  to  have  it  now,  if  it  isn't  too 
much  trouble,"  said  Guyon,  thinking  that  it  was  just  barely 
possible  that  the  missive  might  be  from  Miss  Gordon,  per 
haps  an  invitation  to  call  upon  her — then  rejecting  the 
idea  almost  as  it  came. 

"See,  now!  he's  wide  awake  after  all,  is  Guy — he's  not 
so  slow  a  lad — now  don't  blush,  me  b'y,  there's  no  harm 
in  havin'  a  gerrul  write  ter  ye." 

When  the  letter  was  produced,  Guyon  inspected  the 
writing  of  the  address,  and  handed  it  to  Harold  for  his 
opinion;  but  he  also  was  in  the  dark  as  to  who  could  be 
the  sender. 

"Break  the  seal  and  read  the  contents,  that's  the  easiest 
way,"  he  advised. 

Guyon  opened  the  missive,  and  read  the  lines  hastily; 
while  an  expression  of  disgust  came  over  his  countenance. 
It  was  from  Dimples,  who,  after  recalling  how  she  had 
incurred  Barclay's  anger  in  his  cause  by  reason  of  her 
deep  affection  for  him,  requested  him  to  call  upon  her  any 
afternoon,  as  she  wished  to  discuss  with  him  some  plan  for 
the  future,  adding  that  she  was  now  living  with  her 
Mother. 

"Do  you  mind,  Mother,  if  T  take  Harold  up  to  my  room 


260  A  GENTLEMAN  BORN. 

for  a  few  moments?"  Guyon  asked.     "This  is  something 
upon  which  I  require  his  advice." 

"Why  not  go  into  me  din  there?  It's  convainent,  an' 
I'll  dhrop  in  fer  a  bit  of  a  smoke,  if  ye  don't  mind." 

"I  will  excuse  you  if  it  is  necessary,  Guy;  but  don't 
be  too  long,  that's  a  good  fellow;  and,  if  the  business 
is  of  a  private  nature,  you  will  not  want  your  Father  smok 
ing  in  there  with  you." 

"We'll  only  be  a  moment,  Dad— awfully  sorry  I  can't 
help  you  out  this  time,"  he  whispered,  as  he  passed  where 
the  old  contractor  was  sitting,  scowling  at  his  better 
half,  but  not  daring  to  offer  a  remonstrance. 

"It's  from  the  girl,  Dimples,"  Guyon  said,  when  Harold 
and  he  were  seated  in  the  "den."  "Read  it,  and  tell  me 
what  I  shall  do." 

"She's  dead  gone  on  you,  Guy,  for  a  fact,"  was  his 
friend's  comment.  "I  wish  you  had  followed  my  ad 
vice  when  I  told  you  not  to  seek  her.  You  remember,  I 
warned  you  that  no  good  would  come  of  it." 

"I  do  not  see  that  so  clearly,"  Guyon  replied.  "Have  I 
not  been  the  real  cause  of  her  leaving  Barclay,  and  going 
to  live  with  her  Mother,  who  is  now  a  respectable  woman  ?" 
.  "Barrington's  former  mistress,  and  this  Dimples  his 
child — did  you  not  tell  me  this?  Then,  she  has  un 
doubtedly  inherited  some  traits  of  his  character,"  said 
Harold  musingly. 

"Probably.  Who  would  have  thought  that  it  would 
all  turn  out  this  way  when  I  was  so  interested  in  her  as 
a  child!" 

"Stranger  things  than  that  happen.  Poor  girl !  she  has 
had  a  hard  time  of  it,  no  doubt.  It  is  not  so  wonderful 
that  she  drifted  into  vicious  courses,  alone,  and  without 
a  mother's  counsel  and  guiding  care,  without  even  tne 
teachings  of  religion  to  save  her." 


RIFTS  IN  THE  CLOUDS.  261 

"True,  Hal ;  but  how  about  the  letter  ?    Dad  and  Mother 
will  be  impatient  if  we  do  not  return  soon." 
•   "Can  you  withstand  her  blandishments,  for  her  'future 
plan'  will  amount  to  something  like  that?" 

"I  have  already  heard  a  great  deal  of  her  love-making 
while  I  was  mentally  in  a  weaker  state  than  I  am  now,  and 
when  it  seemed  to  me  that  it  might  be  as  well  if  I  did 
marry  her,  seeing  that  all  other  hope  was  gone." 

"It  is  different  now,  my  boy." 

"Yes,  it  certainly  is." 

"This  is  my  advice,  take  it  for  what  it  is  worth.  If  you 
visit  the  demoiselle  you  will  come  away  with  the  most  un 
pleasant  sensations.  Incensed  at  your  having  rejected  her 
love,  she  will  either  call  down  the  maledictions  of  Heaven 
on  your  head,  or  in  some  way  make  it  so  warm  for  you 
lhat  you  will  wish  that  you  had  not  gone.  Write  a  letter, 
make  it  clear  and  final.  Tell  her  that  you  have  taken 
a  new  lease  of  existence,  with  the  hope  of  winning  one 
•who  alone  can  fill  your  heart's  affections,  or  something 
in  that  strain." 

"I  think,  after  all,  that  will  be  the  best  course  to  pursue, 
Hal.  I  shall  make  such  a  composition  as  will  freeze  the 
most  torrid  passion." 


262  A   GENTLEMAN  BORN. 


CHAPTER  XXX. 

PIETKO  CONFESSES. 

THE  following  evening,  Guyon  drove  to  the  Club,  armed, 
with  a  stout  riding- whip.  He  had  blood  in  his  eye 
figuratively  speaking,  and  he  sought  George  Barclay  with 
a  two-fold  purpose  in  view  of  denouncing  him  beforo  the 
members  as  a  scoundrel,  and  lashing  him  as  a  cur. 

"There's  a  man  waiting  for  you,  sir,"  said  the  porter, 
as  he  entered. 

"Who  is  he?"  queried  Guyon.     "Is  he  a  member?" 

"No,  sir,  he's  a  workingman,  rather  tough,  begging 
your  pardon,  he  said  he  was  a  friend ;  and,  although  I 
told  him  you  hadn't  been  here  in  some  time,  and  would 
not  be  in  to-night,  he  would  wait." 

"Is  he  in  the  reception-room?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"Hello,  Guy!  Hully  gee!  It's  es  good  es  a  circus  ter 
see  youse  agin,"  said  a  voice  as  Guyon  entered  the  room. 

"What,  Biglin,  you  here !"  Guyon  exclaimed. 

"It's  mesel',  an'  no  fake,  Guy.  I'se  a  long  string  ter 
gie  yer,  ef  youse  wants  ter  hear  it,  see  ?" 

"Come  up  to  my  room.  Of  course  I  want  to  hear  all 
you  have  to  say,  especially  if  it  interests  me." 

"Youse  is  de  funniest  mug  I  ever  seed,"  Biglin  resumed, 
when  they  were  seated  in  Guyon's  room.  "Here  I'se  been 
a  chasin'  mesel'  roun'  fer  two  or  tree  weeks  ater  yer,  an' 
no  un  know*d  nothin'  'bout  youse,  'cept  dat  yer'd  flew  de 
coop." 


PIBTRO  CONFESSES.  263 

"I  wasn't  well.  Had  to  take  an  outing.  Had  you  good 
news?" 

"Dat's  right.  0'  course  it's  good,  er  youse  wudn't  be 
settin'  yer  peepers  on  me  now." 

"Out  with  it,  Biglin!" 

"Well,  youse  followin'  me  since  I  lef  youse  dat  night 
wid  de  plunks.  An'  maybe  youse  tonght  I  blowed  it  in; 
but  I  didn't.  De  fac'  wus  dis,  see?  De  Dago  got  'way 
from  me,  wid  all  me  showin'  me  han'.  Hully  gee !  he's  a 
corker,  no  use  talkin'." 

"How  did  you  find  him  at  last?"  asked  Guyon,  a  little 
impatiently. 

"I  didn't  do  a  ting  but  lay  'roun',  waitin'  fer  'im;  fer 
T  Icnow'd  he'd  cum  back  ter  de  Dago  hangout.  So, one  night 
I  nails  'im ;  an'  yer  ought'er  seed  'im  when  I  got  de  nippers 
on.  He  jes'  show'd  'is  crunchers,  an'  sed,  sez  'e,  Tm-,i 
glad-a  ter  see  yous-a,  Mister!'  An*  sez  I,  'I'm  glad  ter 
see  yer  kickin'  agin,  fer  I  heard  as  dey'd  planted  yer/  Den 
I  show'd  me  han'  agin,  an'  axed  'im  wot  'e'd  do  fer  do 
plunks.  'E  bid  'way  up;  so  I  seed  dere  wus  anoder  playin' 
at  de  game,  an*  I  bid  up  aginst  'im.  Den  de  Dago  gied 
me  de  string.  Youse  kin  take  it  fer  wot  it's  wort." 

"He  knew  about  my  parents?" 

"He  know'd  'bout  yer  mudder,  an'  de  swell  bloke  wot 
gied  'im  de  plunkers  ter  take  youse  'way." 

"Are  you  certain  of  that,  Biglin.  Did  he  tell  you  his 
name  ?" 

"Cert'!  Wot  d'ye  take  me  fer?  A  farmer,  ter  bid  in 
fer  de  trays  when  I  cud  cotch  de  Jack-pot?" 

"What  was  the  name?"  asked  Guyon,  who  was  now 
laboring  under  the  most  intense  excitement. 

"It  was  jes'  Barrin'ton,  Perry  I  tink  wus  wot  'e  called 
'im." 

"Great  God!     Again!     For  the  third  time  this  name 


264  A  GENTLEMAN  BORN. 

has  been  mentioned  to  me  in  connection  with  dastardly 
deeds!"  cried  Guyon.  "But  now,  this  last — he  the  cause 
of  all  my  misfortune?  It  is  incredible.  I  must  see  the 
Italian  myself,  Biglin." 

"Nothin'  easier,"  replied  the  man,  regarding  his 
friend  coolly.  "Only  youse  don't  tink  I'm  giein'  yer  a 
fairy  tale  fer  fair,  Guy?" 

"No,  old  fellow !  not  for  the  world  would  I  doubt  you," 
Guyon  said,  as  he  grasped  Biglin's  hand.  "You  have 
proved  yourself  the  truest  of  friends  in  ferreting  out  this 
matter  for  me  when  there  did  not  seem  to  be  the  slightest 
clew.  I  tell  you,  Biglin,  if  the  outcome  of  it  all  is  favor 
able,  I  shall  have  incurred  debt  of  gratitude  to  you  which  I 
can  never  repay." 

"Shut  yer  trap,  Guy!  Ain't  wese  bin  chums  all  along, 
an'  I'll  stick  ter  youse  yet,  ef  yer'll  let  me." 

"Can  I  see  the  Italian  to-night?" 

"Cert',  youse  kin.  Jes'  go  down  de  Bow'ry,  an'  sit 
in  de  'lantic  Gardings  fer  a  bit,  an'  I'll  bring  in  de  Dago 
less  den  no  time." 

"There  was  something  else  I  had  to  do  to-night,"  said 
Guyon  thoughtfully. 

"Wot  wus  it  ?     Cud  I  gie  youse  a  lift  ?" 

"Oh,  no!  I  was  to  have  given  a  rascally  cur  a  horse 
whipping,  for  an  insult  he  gave  me." 

"Hully  gee,  dat's  a  go !  Youse  cud  do  dat  first.  Never 
miss  a  scrap  's  my  motto;  an*  I'll  back  youse  ef  you'll 
lemme." 

"It  won't  be  necessary.  Wait  for  me  in  the  reception- 
room.  I  shall  attend  to  the  fellow  in  short  order,  then 
we'll  be  off  to  the  Bowery." 

Descending  to  the  billiard -room,  Guyon  looked  in  vain 
for  Barclay.  He  was  told  that  the  gentleman  had  not 
put  in  an  appearance  for  several  days. 


PIETRO  CONFESSES.  265 

"Well,  it  can  wait !"  Guyon  thought,  as  he  hurried  back 
to  his  room  and  secreted  the  whip  in  a  place  of  safety. 
The  all-important  object  before  him  now  was  to  ascer 
tain  the  facts  which  the  Italian  might  reveal.  All  else 
passed  to  a  secondary  place. 

"Youse  got  trough  de  scrap  soon,  Guy;  did  'e  squeal 
much?" 

"Couldn't  find  him.     Let  us  away  with  all  haste." 

Calling  a  cab,  and  promising  the  driver  an  extra  tip 
for  additional  speed,  they  were  not  long  in  reaching  the 
Atlantic  Garden,  where  Biglin  left  Guyon,  promising  to 
return  in  a  jiffy. 

The  same  scenes  were  to  be  witnessed  as  when  Guyon 
had  visited  the  place  on  that  former  occasion,  when  Biglin 
and  he  had  dropped  in  after  their  fruitless  search  for  evi 
dence  on  Mott  Street.  Seating  himself  at  one  of  the  tables 
near  the  door,  where  he  could  observe  all  comers,  his 
thoughts  were  so  much  occupied  with  the  approaching  inr 
terview,  that  he  did  not  heed  the  glances  of  most  of  the 
assemblage  directed  towards  himself;  nor  did  he  over 
hear  the  wondering  whispers  circulating  from  table  to 
table,  to  the  effect  that  "a  swell  bloke  was  awaitin'  fer  'is 
gal."  Still  the  crowds  poured  in,  sat  around  sipping 
their  beer,  and  listening  to  the  music,  applauding  the 
performers  generously,  and  relating  their  rehashed-stories 
and  jokes  without  a  semblance  of  weariness. 

After  what  seemed  an  hour,  Biglin  appeared  accom 
panied  by  a  tall,  swarthy  Italian  of  forbidding  aspect, 
whose  eyes  glanced  nervously  about  with  the  hunted  ex 
pression  of  one  who  is  conscious  of  his  guilt,  and  fears 
detection. 

"Hello,  Guy,  dis  is  de  Dago,  I  tole  youse  about,"  said 
Biglin,  bringing  the  Italian  up  to  where  Guyon  was  sit 
ting. 


266  A  GENTLEMAN  HORN. 

"Hadn't  we  better  get  a  table  in  the  further  part  of 
the  room?  Everyone  is  looking  at  us  here,  and  I  do  not 
wish  our  conversation  to  be  overheard." 

"Sure,  youse  has  a  big  nut,  Guy!  I'll  cotch  onter  a 
place  'way  over  dere.  Cum,  Pietro — dat's  'is  name. 
Guy/' 

"Can  you  get  some  paper,  a  pen  and  ink?"  queried 
Guyon. 

"Nothin'  easier.  I  knows  de  boss;  and  'e  chips  in 
fer  anyting." 

When  they  were  seated  at  the  table,  beer  having  been 
ordered  for  Biglin  and  the  Italian,  Guyon  prepared  to 
write  out  the  statement  which  the  Italian  was  expected 
io  make.  Then  he  addressed  Pietro  for  the  first  time. 

"Do  you  know  me?     Have  you  ever  seen  me  before?" 

"Me-a  doan  know-a.  So-a  long  time,"  began  the 
Italian. 

"Shut  yer  trap !"  cried  Biglin.  "Now,  Mister  Pietro. 
clis  is  me  fren',  es  wants  ter  know  ef  youse  flew  de  coop 
\vid  a  little  kid  'way  back?" 

"Me-a  no  understan',  Signor,"  Pietro  protested  doggedly. 
"What-a  you  want-a?" 

"I  know  what  you  want,"  Guyon  replied  sternly.  "You 
have  received  my  money  from  this  man  for  telling  him 
that  you  were  employed  by  one  Perry  Barrington  to  carry 
:>ff  a  little  child  from  his  home,  to  bring  him  to  the  house 
of  an  Italian  woman  called  Eosa,  who  lived  on  Mott  Street. 
Now,  see  here,  Pietro,  I  am  the  child  who  was  abducted. 
Tell  me  all  you  know  about  it.  Speak  slowly  that  I  may 
write  it.  If  you  tell  a  plausible  story,  and  I  find  that  it 
is  true,  I  will  give  you  an  additional  five  hundred.  If  you 
besitate,  I  will  have  you  arrested,  and  a  lengthy  sojourn 
in  prison  will  be  your  lightest  sentence." 


PIETRO  CONFESSES.  267 

"Ah,  Signer,  pity!  Me-a  tell.  Zee  mon,  me-a  doan-a 
care;  but  zee  prizon!  have-a  pity,  Signer." 

"Fire  away,  Dago!  Zee,  wot  fell  you-a  call,  Coppers, 
zay  jes'  out-a  side,  see?" 

Being  thus  adjured,  the  Italian  repeated  his  story, 
vhich  Guy  on  wrote  rapidly,  but  with  a  legible  hand.  Bo- 
ginning  with  the  compact  he  had  made  with  Barrington. 
pleading  that  he  was  so  poor  and  needed  the  money  or  ho 
would  not  have  committed  the  deed,  he  then  rehearsed 
the  scene  of  the  ball  at  the  Beaumont  mansion,  and 
Guyon  knew  for  the  first  time  that  Mrs.  Barrington  was 
his  mother.  The  well-laid  plot  to  carry  off  the  baby  boy 
whilst  the  nurse  was  sent  to  her  mistress  was  told,  and 
how  he,  Pietro,  had  brought  the  child  away  in  a  cab  to 
the  house  of  Rosa,  where  it  seemed  impossible  that  he 
should  ever  return  to  his  people.  He  revealed  also  the 
various  occasions  on  which  he  had  met  Barrington,  and 
received  certain  sums  of  money  which  he  had  been  promised, 
and  of  the  Signer's  wrath  when  he  learned  of  the  child's, 
escape. 

"You  have  seen  Barrington  lately?"  whispered  Guyon, 
who  was  so  overcome  by  the  denouement  that  he  could 
scarcely  speak. 

"Me-a  see  'im  tree-a,  four  week." 

"And  you  told  him  that  this  man  was  looking  you 
up?" 

"Me-a  no  lie,  Signer,  he-a  ask  me-a,  I  tell." 

"And  he  gave  you  money  to  leave  the  city!" 

"Yes-a,   Signer." 

"Why  did  you  return?" 

"Me-a  doan  know-a,  me-a  coam  back  to-a  zee  old  house-a. 
Maybe  eet-a  ees-a  to  die,  who-a  know?" 

"That  will  do.  Now,  do  you  swear  that  what  you  have 
said  is  true?" 


268  A   GENTLEMAN  BORN. 

"Wudn't  it  be  ded  easy  ter  have  a  lawyer  mug  gie  'im 
de  tip  on  swearin',  Guy?" 

"Certainly!  but  we  can't  get  one  as  late  as  this,  and 
here." 

"Can't  wese  dough!  Wotch  me — dere's  lots  er  j edges 
in  de  bowlin'  alley,  wots  fixed  up  f er  a  beefsteak  feed ;  an' 
de  boss  bees  in  dere  wid  'em.  I'll  jes'  pull  one  er  dem, 
see?" 

Biglin  was  off  as  he  spoke,  and  soon  returned  with  a 
genial,  smooth-faced  individual  in  whom  Guyon  recognized 
a  friend  of  the  old  contractor,  and  likewise  a  member 
of  Tammany  Hall. 

Having  stated  his  case  to  this  learned  gentleman,  after 
a  few  words  of  recognition  had  been  spoken,  Guyon  handed 
the  document  to  him,  and  requested  him  to  take  the  oath 
of  the  Italian. 

"I  tell  you  what,  Mr.  McCarty,  or  Beaumont,  as  that 
seems  to  be  your  name  from  this  paper,  I  won't  give  much 
for  the  Italian's  oath ;  but  I'll  take  it.  I'd  like  to  give  him 
a  life  sentence,  though,  and  I  shouldn't  wonder  if  I  could 
get  a  jury  to  send  him  to  the  chair." 

"Have-a  pity !  pity-a !"  cried  Pietro,  fairly  crawling 
at  the  Judge's  feet. 

"Go  away!  Don't  touch  me!"  cried  the  Judge.  Then 
to  Guyon :  "The  document  has  some  legal  weight  since  you 
Lave  witnesses,"  he  said.  And  having  caused  the  Italian 
to  affix  his  mark,  and  Biglin  and  the  Judge  also  having 
signed  it,  Guyon  pocketed  the  precious  paper,  feeling  that 
at  last  he  had  obtained  the  long  sought  evidence. 

He  politely  refused  the  invitation  to  join  the  party  of 
"feeders"  as  Biglin  called  them,  but  expressed  his  warm 
appreciation  of  the  Judge's  kindness,  when  the  latter 
drank  to  the  "Success  and  Prosperity  of  Mr.  Beaumont," 
in  a  glass  of  excellent  sherry. 


PIETRO  CONFESSES.  269 

"Wot's  yer  game  now,  Guy?"  queried  Biglin,  as  they 
left  the  garden. 

"I  shall  call  upon  Barrington  and  confront  him  with 
the  evidence  of  his  guilt." 

"Maybe  'e'll  take  a  turn  out  er  youse,"  said  Biglin  re 
flectively. 

"Two  can  play  at  that  game." 

"An'  so  youse  foun'  yersel'  at  last,  Guy?"  said  Biglin, 
looking  up  at  his  old  acquaintance  with  increasing  re 
spect,  as  the  fact  grew  upon  him  that  Guy  was  a  "swell 
mug"  after  all. 

"Yes,"  Guyon  replied,  "all  that  remains  is  to  establish 
the  proof.  God  grant  that  it  may  be  speedily  accom 
plished." 


270  A  GENTLEMAN  BORN. 


CHAPTEK  XXXI. 

A  WARNING. 

WHEN  Biglin  left  Guy  on  that  night  with  a  feeling  of 
^tense  satisfaction  that  he  had  at  last  accomplished  the 
great  quest  which  had  occupied  his  thoughts  for  so  many 
years;  that  he  had  found  conclusive  proof  that  the  littlj 
"Dago  kid,"  whom  he  had  first  met  on  the  dumps,  was  one 
of  the  "swellest  mugs"  in  New  York,  the  idea  of  the  im 
mense  gulf  which  had  come  between  them,  caused  a  sudden 
revolution  in  his  thoughts.  All  the  warmth  of  his  nature 
had  gone  out  to  Guyon;  and  now,  with  a  chilling  misery, 
lie  owned  to  himself  that  they  could  be  chums  and  brothers 
no  longer. 

In  his  longing  to  find  some  one  to  whom  he  might  com 
municate  his  feelings,  a  kindred  spirit  who  would  sym 
pathize  with  his  condition,  he  thought  of  Dimples.  He 
had  not  seen  her  to  converse  with  her  since  she  left  her 
home  on  Cherry  Street;  but  he  knew  that  she  was  at  the 
Casino,  and  he  could  meet  her  if  he  waited  there  at  the 
stage  entrance. 

Thither,  then,  he  went.  There  was  some  time  to  spare 
before  the  performance  should  be  concluded ;  and  he  hung 
around  so  close  to  the  door,  that  the  guardian  of  those 
sacred  precincts  was  obliged  to  threaten  him  with  the 
severest  penalties,  and  even  invite  an  officer  to  enforce 
his  request  that  "he  move  on."  Still  he  hovered  about;  for 
he  said  to  himself  that  "no  swell  bloke"  should  nab  Dimples 
before  he  got  hold  of  her.  And  sure  enough,  his  patience 


A   WARNING.  271 

was  finally  rewarded  by  seeing  the  young  lady  come  forth 
alone.     He  was  at  her  side  in  an  instant. 

"Howdy,  Dimples !  Is  youse  too  big  game  ter  look  at 
an  ole  feller  like  me?" 

"Who  are  you?"  queried  the  young  lady,  favoring  him 
with  an  icy  stare. 

"Hully  gee  !  Youse  ain't  goin'  ter  cut  me  ded,  Dimples  ? 
Doan  youse  cotch  on  ter  me  phiz  ?  An'  me  name's  Biglin, 
Swipsie  youse  called  me  oncet." 

"Oh,  yes!  I  remember  you,  Mr.  Biglin.  I'm  glad 
to  see  you  to-night." 

"Now  youse  squealin'  like  yer  used  ter.  Wot  fell  'ave 
yer  bin  up  ter  all  dis  time?  I  tole  Guy  'bout  youse,  an' 
'e  sed  es  Vd  look  yer  up.  Did  'e?" 

"Yes;  and  I've  found  my  mother,  and  am  living  with 
her.  What  do  you  think  of  that  ?" 

"Gee,  dat's  great!  Youse  all  a  findin'  yer  folks!  i 
s'pose  now,  yer  mudder  she's  a  big  swell,  ain't  she?" 

"Not  exactly ;  but  she's  very  good  to  me.  What  did  you 
mean  by  'all  finding  their  folks'?" 

"Oh,  nothin'  much!  Yer  see,  Dimples,  I'm  a  little 
down  ter-night.  Youse  doan  mine  me  chasin'  meseF  'long 
wid  yer,  does  yer?" 

"No,  I  walk  home  almost  every  night;  so  you  can  be 
my  escort  for  this  once.  But  what  makes  you  down? 
Haven't  you  work?" 

"Dere's  work  'miff.  I'se  boss  o'  de  job  fer  de  McCartys, 
dat's  Guy's  fader — I  mean  dat's  him  es  used  ter  be  Guy's 
fader.  Dis  blamed  bissness'  got  me  nut  all  upside  down, 
see?" 

"I  don't  understand  you.  You  are  working  for  the 
contractor,  you  say?" 

"Cerf !  It's  jes  dis  way.  Youse  knows  Guy  an'  me 
an'  youse  used  ter  be  brudders  an'  sister  in  dose  times  a'ter 


272  A  GENTLEMAN  BORN. 

me  an'  Guy  fonn'  youse,  an'  Guy  an'  me  tergedder  long 
afor  dat." 

"Don't  speak  of  those  times,  Biglin ;  tell  me  about  your 
self,"  said  Dimples,  with  so  much  asperity  in  her  tone 
that  Biglin  turned  to  look  at  her  in  wonder. 

"Youse  got  ter  be  such  a  howlin'  swell  in  de  teayters. 
youse  doan  care  'bout  Cherry  Street  no  more,"  he  said. 
"I  tought  youse  moight  like  ter  talk  'bout  de  old  place, 
see?" 

"Then  you  are  mistaken.  That  is  all  passed.  I  have  a 
new  life,  new  associations,  and  a  new  future." 

"So's  Guy!  dat's  de  worst!"  replied  Biglin  sadly. 
"Youse  all  got  way  up  'cept  mesel',  an'  I'se  way  down." 

"What  is  it  about  Mr.  McCarty?"  queried  Dimples, 
thinking  that  she  might  learn  something  from  this  man 
which  she  could  turn  to  advantage;  for  since  the  receipt 
of  his  letter  her  love  for  him  had  changed  to  the  bitter 
est  hate. 

"I  s'pose  'e  won't  mind  me  squealin'.  Anyhow,  de 
whole  ting  '11  be  peached  soon.  Guy's  foun'  who  'e  is  a' 
las',  see?  "E's  no  street  gamin,  ner  a  Dago  kid,'  sez  I 
ter  mesel'  when  I  set  me  peepers  on  'im.  An'  I've  bin 
chasin'  roun'  fer  de  longes'  time  ter  fine  wot  dey  calls  de 
clew  ter  'is  birt',  see  ?  Den  I  cotch  de  big  Dago  wot  took 
'im  away  when  'e  wus  a  kid;  an'  Guy,  'e's  got  de  nippers 
on  ter  'im  ter-night,  an'  made  'im  peach  de  hull  game, 
c  en  'e  writes  it  down,  an'  'as  a  Jedge  bloke  ter  do  de  swearin' 
act,  an'  dere  youse  is,  an'  Guy  ain't  me  brudder  no 
longer." 

"How  do  you  make  that  out,  Biglin?" 

"Well,  o'  course,  I  ain't  in  it  wid  'im,  when  'e's  way  up 
in  de  upper  ten,  see?" 

"Do  you  mean  that  he  knows  of  his  parents  ?"  exclaimed 
Dimples,  now  deeply  interested. 


A   WARNING.  273 

"Dat's  de  game !  Only  one's  livin'.  'Is  fader  wus  ded 
when  'e  wus  took  away." 

"What  is  his  Mother's  name?" 

"'Twas  Beaumints,  er  suthin'  like  dat,  an'  dat's  Guy's 
name — ain't  it  swell?  Guy  Beaumints,  dere  youse  is! 
'E  wus  jes'  Guynoni  first,  den  Guy,  den  Guy  McCarty,  an' 
now  dis  name — wot  it  wus  all  de  time." 

"I  don't  know  the  name,  never  heard  of  it,"  said  Dim 
ples,  who  had  been  searching  her  memory  for  some  link 
to  work  upon.  "Was  this  all  he  learned  to-night?"  she 
finally  asked. 

"Bet  yer  life,  it  wusn't!  De  Dago  peached  ded  on  de 
bloke  wot  had  Guy  took  away,  'ducted,  dey  calls  it,  an' 
maybe  Guy  won't  do  a  ting  ter  'im  when  'e  cotches  'im." 

"I  wonder  who  the  wicked  man  can  be?" 

"I'll  tell  youse  ef  youse  doan  squeal,  'cause  Guy,  he  doan 
want  no  un  ter  cotch  on  ter  'is  game,  see  ?" 

"I  won't  say  a  word,  Biglin." 

"Well,  it's  jes'  Barrin'ton — Perry's  'is  first  name — 
dat's  de  string  de  Dago  gied  us." 

"My  Father!"  exclaimed  Dimples. 

"Yer  Fader?  Say,  Dimples,  yer  tole  me  es  youse  foun' 
yer  Mudder;  but  yer  ain't  goin'  ter  gie  me  de  fairy  tale 
now  fer  fair!  Ef  dis  bloke's  yer  Fader,  I'll  tell  youse, 
ef  it  wus  de  las'  word  I  sed,  sez  I,  'e's  de  damnest  scamp 
outer  jail." 

"How  dare  you  insult  my  Father!  How  dare  you  say 
that !"  cried  Dimples,  throwing  off  her  mask  and  displaying 
her  true  character.  "I  tell  you,  Mr.  Barrington  is  more 
of  a  gentleman  than  your  fine  friend  who  has  gotten  up  this 
tale  to  raise  himself  in  society.  I  don't  believe  it !  but 
I'm  thankful  for  your  news,  Mr.  Biglin,"  she  added  with 
a  laugh  at  his  discomfiture.  "You  may  go  now.  I  do 


274  A  GENTLEMAN  BORN. 

not  want  you  any  more  to-night.  I'm  almost  home,  and 
— I've  got  all  the  information  I  need,  at  present/' 

"Hully  gee!"  Biglin  exclaimed,  as  he  stood  staring 
after  the  girl,  who  was  fast  disappearing  from  view. 
"Hully  gee!  who'd  a'  tought  dat  o'  Dimples?  Gee,  but 
dose  gals  bees  corkers!  Wot  fell,  wot  fell!  she'll  squeal, 
will  she  ?  An'  dat  damned  Fader  o'  hers  '11  be  on  ter  Guy's 
game!  Dot's  like  me,  allus  spilin'  de  good  ting!  Ef  I 
ever  agin  opens  me  lips  ter  dose  petticoats,  s'help 
me!" 

And  Dimples,  who  had  never  lost  sight  of  the  one  great 
aim  of  her  life  now — to  injure  Guyon  to  the  fullest  ex 
tent  as  a  holocaust  at  the  altar  of  her  wounded  affections 
— had  grasped  this  intelligence  which  Biglin  conveyed, 
and  quickly  revolving  it  in  her  fertile  mind,  for  she  pos 
sessed  many  of  Perry's  tricky  qualities,  determined  to  pay 
a  visit  to  her  respected  parent,  and  discuss  with  him  some 
new  scheme  which  would  most  completely  satiate  her  thirst 
for  vengeance. 

Hence  it  was  that  she  called  at  the National  Bank 

the  next  day,  and  was  ushered  into  the  same  room  where 
her  mother  had  met  with  such  a  brutal  reception.  Perry 
chanced  to  be  there  to-day  beoause  of  a  meeting  of  the 
directors  at  which  he  had  resigned  his  position  as  President, 
receiving  many  requests  to  reconsider  his  withdrawal,  ac 
companied  by  the  most  nattering  eulogies  upon  his  exalted 
character,  his  brilliant  career  as  President,  under  which 
the  bank  had  risen  to  a  place  second  to  none  among  the 
financial  institutions  of  the  country,  and  so  on. 

All  this  had  been  as  so  much  balm  to  him,  causing  him  to 
feel  secure  in  the  belief  that  some  of  the  most  influential 
n»en  of  the  time,  who  were  connected  with  the  bank,  either 
as  depositors  or  directors,  and  who  had  been  unstinted 


A   WARNING.  275 

in  their  praise,  would  stand  by  him  and  refuse  to  give 
credence  to  whatever  might  be  brought  against  him. 

"The  lady  whose  card  I  gave  you,  sir,"  said  the  mes 
senger,  showing  Dimples  into  the  private  office. 

"What  is  your  business  with  me,  young  woman  ?"  asked 
Perry,  as  Dimples,  approaching,  gazed  into  his  once  hand 
some,  now  almost  repulsive  countenance,  and  wondered  in 
her  heart  how  her  Mother  could  have  been  attracted  to 
him. 

"I've  been  wanting  10  can  upon  you  lor  sometime,"  she 
replied,  falling  into  one  of  the  comfortable  chairs  which 
was  drawn  up  near  to  her  Father.  "You  don't  know  me,  of 
course." 

"No,  I  don't  know  you.  Are  you  soliciting  for  some 
charitable  object?  I  have  many  such  calls  upon  me; 
still,  if  it  is  worthy,  I  will  not  fall  behind  in  my  duty  as 
a  Christian." 

"Gee  whiz !  I  must  inherit  my  clever  acting  from  both 
sides  of  the  house,"  thought  Dimples ; — then  aloud :  "You 
are  mistaken,  sir,  I'm  not  a  solicitor  of  any  kind,  I'm  an 
actress." 

"Oh!"  exclaimed  Perry,  elevating  his  eyebrows,  an  ad 
justing  his  eye-glasses  to  get  a  better  look  at  his  visitor. 
"Deucedly  pretty  girl !"  was  his  comment. — "Is  there  any 
thing  I  can  do  for  you,  my  dear  ?"  he  said. 

"Yes,  Father,  I  want  to  have  a  little  talk  with  you." 

"What  did  you  say — Father  ?  Why,  I've  never  seen  you 
before — there  must  be  some  mistake ;  and  yet,  you  do  not 
appear  to  be  a  young  lady  who  would  try  to  bunco  an  old 
gentleman  like  me." 

"It's  no  bunco  game,  sir,  nor  blackmail,  either.  When 
1  mention  my  Mother's  name,  Mildred  Moss,  you  will  re 
call  the  fact  that  she  sacrificed  her  baby  girl  and  yours, 
for  your  sake.  I  am  that  child,  whom  you  both  supposed 


276  A  GENTLEMAN  BORN. 

Ltid  perished.     I  found  Mother  a  short  time  ago;  she  told 
me  her  story/' 

"Ah,  it's  her  game  then  I"  Perry  exclaimed,  his  face 
assuming  a  hard,  stern  aspect.  "I  assure  you,  young 
woman,  you  cannot  obtain  a  penny  from  me.  This  has 
been  cleverly  thought  out.  I  give  you  both  credit  for  it, 
but,  really,  you  see,  it's  all  too  transparent.  You,  my 
child! — Miss  Moss'  child!  perfectly  ridiculous!"  he  con 
cluded,  with  a  sarcastic  smile. 

"Do  you  think  so,  sir?  Mother  warned  me  that  my  re 
ception  would  not  be  the  warmest,  when  I  told  her  that 
1  intended  to  claim  an  allowance  from  you.  Now  my 
errand  is  different.  I  am  here  to  do  business  with  you.  If 
1  ask  for  money,  it  is  only  as  a  return  for  what  I  shall 
give." 

"Ah,  ah!  you  change  your  tactics!  Well,  out  with  it. 
dear.  Your  wisdom  surely  does  credit  to  your  parents, 
whoever  they  are." 

"It  should  do  credit  to  you;  for  you  are  an  excellent; 
actor,  I'm  told."  As  she  said  this,  Perry  winced  a  little, 
and  Dimples,  observing  it,  hurried  to  gain  her  point. 

"I  have  certain  information  which  you  will  probably 
like  to  hear,  although,  in  the  main,  it  may  be  painful  to 
you." 

"There  is  nothing  which  you  can  communicate  that  will 
even  interest  me." 

"You  know  Mr.  Barclay,"  Dimples  resumed. 

"Yes." 

"Well,  I  am  the  young  lady  by  whose  means  he  hoped  to 
dupe  Mr.  McCarty,  and  lower  his  character." 

"You  were  living  with  Barclay?  Eeally!  and  you  suc 
ceeded,  I  trust !  Now  that  you  disclose  your  true  identity, 
there  is  no  need  of  playing  at  cross  purposes." 

"I  am  delighted  to  hear  you  say  that!    We  can  get 


A   WARNING.  277 

along  so  much  more  quickly.  No,  I  did  not  succeed, 
because  I  was  fool  enough  to  fall  in  love  with  the  fel 
low." 

"Good!"  Perry  exclaimed,  rubbing  his  hands,  "he 
reciprocated  your  affection,  of  course — such  a  charming 
appearance!  so  fascinating,  by  Jove!  Now,  if  I  were  a 
young  man  !  : " 

"Sir,  you  are  mistaken!  He  did  not  return  my  love. 
But,  in  the  meantime,  I  championed  his  cause  before  Bar 
clay,  and  his  friend,  Mr.  Brandon,  whom  he  had  brought 
as  a  witness  to  the  facts  adduced  in  his  letter." 

"The  Devil,  you  did!  That  was  very,  very  wrong, 
young  woman ;  but,  no  doubt,  you  expected  at  that  time  that 
the  fellow  would  repay  you  with  his  devotion." 

"Perhaps  I  did.  Still,  Barclay  had  no  excuse  for  re 
vealing  your  name  in  connection  with  the  plot." 

"Did  he  do  this !"  cried  Barrington,  turning  ashy  white, 
oud  clinching  his  hands  upon  the  arms  of  his  chair,  "and 
in  the  presence  of  Brandon?  The  affair  must  have  been 
told  over  the  city  by  this  time !  What  shall  I  do  ?" 

"No  fear  of  that,  sir!  McCarty  is  too  deeply  engaged 
in  another  matter — your  Ward — to  circulate  a  story  which 
would  bring  dishonor  upon  your  family." 

"You  think  so?  Yes,  I  imagine  there  is  some  truth 
in  that — but  what  do  you  know  about  this  McCarty  ?" 

"I  ?  Why,  I  know  a  great  deal.  I've  known  him  since 
he  was  a  street  boy  down  in  Cherry  Street." 

"As  long  as  that?  Then  you  are  aware  that  he  has 
no  origin  to  speak  of;  and  that  even  the  name  he  bears, 
with  which  he  has  acquired  some  wealth,  is  not  his 
own." 

"I  know  that,  also,  and  more,"  Dimples  replied  coolly. 
"Now,  see  here,  Father,  we  are  coming  to  the  object  of  my 
visit.  I  have  intelligence  which,  I  fancy,  will  be  worth  a 


278  A  GENTLEMAN  BORN. 

great  deal  to  you.  As  your  daughter,  it  was  my  first 
thought  to  warn  you  of  a  danger  hanging  over  you;  but, 
since  you  repudiate  my  claims  to  relationship,  I  will  put 
it  in  another  way.  What  will  you  give  me  for  a  certain 
knowledge  about  this  McCarty,  as  he  calls  himself?" 

"You  know  something  which  concerns  me?"  Perry 
mused,  endeavoring  not  to  appear  interested,  yet  failing 
utterly.  The  office  was  thoroughly  heated,  still  he  shivered, 
as  though  the  chill  atmosphere  of  winter  was  there.  All 
this  did  not  escape  Dimples,  nor  elicit  the  slightest  feel 
ing  of  pity.  He  had  insulted  her,  as  he  had,  in  that  other 
day,  scorned  her  Mother.  She  would  use  him  now,  as 
^ny  other  instrument  which  might  have  suggested  itself 
for  carrying  out  her  revenge  upon  Guyon. 

"Yes,"  she  replied,  "I  have  learned  it  from  an  old  pal  of 
McCarty's,  who  also  knew  him  when  he  lived  with  an 
Italian  woman  in  Mott  Street.  This  fellow  conceived  the 
idea  of  unravelling  the  mystery.  I  saw  him  last  night, 
and  what  he  told  me,  concerns  you  most  intimately." 

"What  is  your  information  worth?"  Perry  asked  in  a 
voice  scarcely  above  a  whisper. 

"I  don't  think  a  thousand  is  too  much,"  replied  Dimples 
coolly. 

"Have  a  care!  Remember,  I  can  have  you  prosecuted 
for  blackmail." 

"And  I  can  aid  your  enemies  in  bringing  you  to  justice  • 
how  would  a  felon's  arb  become  you  ?"  queried  the  young 
woman. 

"There's  my  check  book!  Make  out  the  check  for  tho 
amount — Ican't  hold  the  pen  steadily.  I'm  not  a  well 
man.  It's  not  that  I'm  afraid!  Pshaw!  No  one  would 
believe  the  tale,  only " 

"Only  it's  more  convenient  to  give  me  the  money,"  said 


A   WARNING.  279 

Dimples,  drawing  the  check  hurriedly,  and  wishing  that  ske 
bad  named  five  thousand  instead  of  one. 

"Now,  for  your  intelligence !"  said  Perry. 

"McCarty  has  learned  from  the  Italian  Pietro  of  the 
abduction — has  procured  a  document  signed  by  the  fellow, 
relating  the  circumstances,  giving  your  name  in  full,  and 
charging  you  with  the  crime.  He  knows  that  he  is  your 
wife's  child  by  her  former  husband,  Mr.  Beaumont.  Is 
that  sufficient?" 

"At  last!"  Perry  murmured,  so  completely  overcome 
that  he  could  scarcely  frame  the  words. 

"Here's  the  check,  sir,"  said  Dimples,  with  a  vague  fear 
lest  something  should  happen  to  him — so  ill  did  he  ap 
pear. 

"Yes — the  check!  There  you  have  it  signed,"  he  re 
plied  ;  but  the  signature  was  barely  legible.  "Ring  for  the 
messenger  and  leave  me — No,  don't  go  until  he  arrives." 

"This  man,  McCarty,  will  call  upon  you  soon,"  said 
Dimples  quietly,  observing  the  effect  of  her  words  upon 
her  Father.  She  had  the  money  now,  and  would  torture 
him  just  a  little  for  her  Mother's  sake. 

"How  soon?  how  soon?" 

"I  really  cannot  tell,  perhaps  this  evening;  but  if  you 
are  ill,  you  need  not  see  him.  Doubtless,  his  presence 
will  irritate  you." 

"That's  my  own  affair.     I  can  take  care  of  him." 

"Father,"  said  Dimples,  "this  is  perhaps  the  last  time 
I  shall  see  you.  Just  one  request  before  I  go.  You  don't 
want  this  fellow  around.  What  your  reasons  are,  I  am 
not  interested  to  know.  Can't  you  make  his  disappearance 
more  effectual  this  time?" 

"What  have  you  to  do  with  it?"  cried  Barrington,  glanc 
ing  sharply  at  his  child  who  now  appeared  more  truly 
than  ever  his  counterpart. 


280  A  GENTLEMAN  BORN. 

"I?  He  rejected  my  love — he  loves  another,  and  I 
have  sworn  that  he  shall  never  wed  her!  Isn't  that 
enough?" 

"Sufficient !  Your  hand,  child.  Let  me  look  close  into 
your  face,  the  lights  are  dim — you — you  are  Mildred's 
little  one,  indeed.  Now  go,  the  messenger  is  coming; 
your  Father  will  not  forget  your  wrong." 

"Thank  you,  sir.  I  trust  you  will  he  strong  enough 
for  that  other  interview." 


NEMESIS.  281 


CHAPTER  XXXII. 

NEMESIS. 

PERRY  asked  the  bank  messenger  to  ride  home  with  him, 
when  the  coach  was  brought  to  the  door.  There  was  a 
vague  dread  hanging  over  him,  such  as  he  had  not  yet 
experienced.  His  physician  had  told  him  to  avoid  any 
great  excitement,  hinting  darkly  that  he  was  not  in  the 
very  best  condition.  This  shock,  the  warning  he  had  re 
ceived  from  Dimples,  had  well-nigh  produced  the  most 
direful  effect.  It  was  only  a  sudden  determination, 
framed  in  a  moment  of  desperation,  that  gave  him  false 
strength,  enabling  him  to  reach  home  in  safety. 

It  was  a  bleak  December  night.  The  Christmas  holi 
days  were  approaching,  bringing  in  their  train  a  host  of 
social  festivities  of  which  the  Barrington  household  was 
to  have  its  share.  Consequently,  amid  the  bustle  and 
merriment,  Perry's  unusually  ill  appearance  did  not  at 
tract  as  much  attention  as  it  would  otherwise  have  done. 
He  ordered  his  dinner  to  be  served  in  his  room;  and,  in 
reply  to  his  wife's  question  as  to  his  health,  for  Muriel 
found  a  moment  or  two  to  spend  in  his  company,  not 
withstanding  his  querulous  humor,  he  replied  that  he 
wished  to  be  left  alone,  adding  that  he  expected  a  visitor 
who  was  to  be  shown  into  the  library  when  he  came. 

"Poor  Perry !  are  you  certain  I  can  do  nothing  for  you  ?" 
?i?ked  Muriel,  pausing  at  the  door,  and  coming  again  to 
his  side — there  was  something  peculiarly  dejected  and  care 
worn  in  his  aspect  which  touched  her  loving  heart. 


282  A  GENTLEMAN  BORN. 

"No,  nothing;  only  leave  me.  You  have  sufficient  to 
occupy  your  time  to-night,  I  suppose/' 

"Yes;  but  it  is  selfish  in  me  to  leave  you  all  alone  when 
you  are  suffering.  Won't  you  let  me  call  our  physician  ?" 

"Physician  be  hanged !  He  could  do  no  good.  I'm 
going  away  after  Christmas.  I  feel  that  I  need  the  change. 
However,  you  need  not  mention  it." 

"I'm  so  delighted  that  you  have  come  to  that  decision. 
Now,  good-night,  dearest.  Why  will  you  see  anyone  to 
night?  Ketire  early,  and  you  will  feel  better." 

"Muriel,"  he  said,  drawing  her  close  to  him,  "if  any 
thing  should  happen  to  me,  if  a  secret  enemy  should 
arise,  accusing  me  of  a  great  crime,  you  would  still  trusc 
me,  you  would  not  believe  ill  of  me,  would  you?" 

"Oh,  Perry !  how  can  you  talk  so  ?  Believe  ill  of  you, 
my  own  true  husband  ?  I  would  like  to  confront  the  man 
who  thinks  it !  No,  dearest,  this  is  some  phantom  of  your 
imagination,  caused  by  your  illness.  See,  I  kiss  you,  again 
and  again !  Wo  are  just  the  same  lovers  we  were  in  the 
old  times,  aren't  we?" 

"Yes.  Now  go,  Muriel;  they  are  missing  you  in  the 
drawing-room." 

Leaving  most  of  his  dinner  untouched,  Perry  descended 
to  the  library,  having  first  examined  a  trim,  silver- 
mounted  revolver,  which  he  took  from  a  secret  drawer  in 
his  dresser. 

The  great  log-fire  was  blazing  merrily  in  the  open 
fireplace,  and  casting  fantastic  shadows  about  the  old 
room  when  he  entered.  He  drew  a  chair  towards  the 
hearth;  then  rose,  and,  going  to  the  window,  gazed  out 
into  the  night.  The  cold  must  have  been  intense  for  the 
heavy  mullioned  panes  were  coated  with  a  thick  icy  cover 
ing,  with  just  a  chink  here  and  there,  serving  as  peep 
holes  into  the  awful  blackness  without.  Gust  after  gust 


•  NEMESIS.  283 

swept  the  streets  and  against  the  windows  at  which  he 
stood,  and  myriads  of  tiny  flakes,  borne  on  the  blast,  were 
piling  themselves  up  in  grotesque  shapes  everywhere. 

"Ugh !"  muttered  Perry,  "it's  a  bad  night.  I  doubt  if 
he  comes.  I  trust  that  he  will.  To  have  this  suspense  for 
another  day !  I  can't  live  through  it.  And  when  it's  all  over 
—Bah!  I'll  not  think  of  that— Self-defense !  that's  a 
good  idea.  He  threatened  my  life — yes,  there  must  be 
another  pistol — Ah,  it's  here!  Clarence's  with  his  name. 
Good!  perfect  condition! — Why  the  mischief  doesn't  the 
fire  warm  the  place!"  And  he  drew  his  chair  closer  to 
the  blaze,  still  shivering.  He  had  not  thought  of  turning 
on  the  electric  light.  He  did  not  seem  to  mind  the  gloom 
cf  the  place  at  first;  but  now,  as  he  was  seated  there,  he 
thought  he  heard  low  moanings  from  the  furthermost  corner 
and  started  in  alarm;  only  to  find  that  it  was  the  wind  in 
its  freakish  outbursts  about  the  house. — Again,  the  sound, 
and  with  it  a  rapping  at  the  door. 

"Great  Heavens !  if  this  goes  on  much  longer,  I'll  be  in 
no  condition  to  meet  the  fellow.  What  on  earth  can  it 
be? — Clarence's  room — the  same  books  which  he  was  wont 
to  gloat  over;  his  desk, — this  very  chair,  I  believe  he  used 
when  I  saw  him  last.  That's  not  his  face,  there  in  the 
blaze !  Ten  thousand  Demons ! — Hastings !  Hastings !  the 
lights,  I  say!" 

"Yes,  sir,  I've  been  knocking  at  the  door,  sir,  and  you 
oidn't  say  as  I  was  to  come  in." 

"Have  you  turned  on  the  lights?  Put  on  more  logs — 
quick.  It's  a  cold  night,  Hastings." 

"Yes,  sir;  shall  I  fetch  you  a  little  wine?" 

"Brandy!  to  the  left,  there  in  the  locker — straight. 
Now  I  feel  better.  Leave  the  decanter  on  the  table." 

"Yes,  sir.  There's  a  gentleman  as  wants  to  see  you, 
sir.  The  Madam  said  as  I  was  to  show  him  up." 


284  A  GENTLEMAN  BORN. 

"He's  come!  Bring  him  here  at  once/'  Perry  replied, 
fortifying  himself  with  another  glass. 

"Mr.  McCarty,"  said  Hastings,  holding  open  the  door 
as  Guyon  entered.  "Bless  my  stars,"  muttered  the  old 
man,  "if  I  didn't  think  he  was  Mr.  Clarence  himself." 

"I  am  honored  by  your  visit,"  said  Perry.  "Be  seated. 
It  was  good  of  you  to  call  upon  me  on  such  a  night  as 
this." 

"Perhaps  so,"  Guyon  replied,  drawing  up  a  chair  op 
posite  Barrington,  "and  doubtless  you  must  think  that 
the  object  of  my  visit  is  serious  when  I  choose  so  ugly 
:•  night  for  paying  it." 

"Not  necessarily — you  are  chilled — shall  I  help  you  ID 
some  of  this  ?  It  is  excellent,  I  assure  you." 

"No,  I  thank  you.     The  warmth  of  the  fire  is  sufficient." 

"As  you  please.  I  was  not  aware  that  you  young  men 
were  so  temperate." 

"Temperance  is  sometimes  a  necessity." 

"Do  you  refer  to  temperance  in  general?  or  perhaps 
merely  to  the  use  of  opium. 

"I  don't  pretend  to  misunderstand  you,  sir.  You  have 
teen  the  letter  which  Barclay  wrote  and  which  you  in 
stigated." 

"So,  ho!  that's  what  brought  you  here!"  cried  Perry, 
with  an  effort  to  control  his  passion,  but  failing  utterly. 
The  very  sight  of  this  man,  the  image  of  his  former  friend^ 
Clarence  Beaumont,  he,  the  one  individual  whose  ex 
istence  was  a  constant  menace  to  him,  could  not  but  ex 
asperate  him.  "I  must  congratulate  you,"  he  added 
sarcastically,  "in  having  escaped  the  effects  of  the  drug. 
The  young  lady,  in  whose  company  you  smoked,  is  well,  I 
presume." 

"Mr.  Barrington,  let  us  come  to  a  more  serious  under 
standing,"  said  Guyon,  feeling  that  he  could  not  answer 


NEMESIS.  285 

for  himself  if  he  remained  here  long.  "I  am  now  aware 
of  the  motive  which  actuated  you  in  that  affair." 

"Beally,  you  must  be  a  mind-reader.  Pray,  how  did 
you  receive  the  intelligence?" 

"From  your  tool.     The  wretch  himself  confessed  it." 

"Poor  Barclay!  he  must  have  been  sorely  tried  to  have 
resorted  to  such  a  subterfuge." 

"It  is  no  lie !  you  cannot  deny  it." 

"And  if  I  do?  You  have  no  witness  to  sustain  your 
statement." 

"My  friend,  Harold  Brandon,  is  here;  he  was  present 
when  Barclay  disclosed  your  name.  Shall  I  call  him?" 

''That  is  not  necessary.  I  admit  the  truth  of  what 
you  say.  Yes,  I  did  give  Barclay  a  hint  or  two,  I  wished 
to  see  how  quickly  a  man  who  had  come  from  the  streets, 
and,  by  means  of  education  and  wealth,  had  acquired  a 
certain  position  in  society,  would  fall  again  to  his  proper 
level." 

"Do  not  excite  my  anger,  Mr.  Barrington,  by  your  in 
sults.  Kemember  that  I  am  under  your  roof  and  enjoy 
ing  your  hospitality.  As  my  host,  you  are  safe  at  my 
hands." 

"Your  speech  is  pretty  highly  strung  for  a  street  gamin," 
laughed  Perry,  flinging  these  shots  to  lead  Guyon  on  to 
the  highest  state  of  rage. 

"A  street  gamin !"  Guyon  cried,  rising  and  confronting 
Perry,  who  still  remained  seated.  "If  I  was  that,  you 
were  the  cause  of  it.  No,  thank  Heaven!  I  have  dis 
covered  my  origin  at  last.  I  am  your  equal  socially,  I  am 
your  superior  in  that  my  hands  and  my  heart  are  clean, 
whereas  yours  are  stained  with  the  foulest  crimes." 

"Do  you  dare  to  say  that  to  me  ?     You !" 

"Yes,  I  dare.  Do  not  excite  yourself  unnecessarily. 
If  you  were  in  another  position,  I  would  summon  you  to 


286  A   GENTLEMAN  BORN. 

justice,  and  you  should  pay  the  highest  penalty  for  your 
deed.  Now,  for  the  sake  of  my  Mother  and  of  her  child, 
J  am  content  that  you  acknowledge  the  wrong  you  have 
done  me,  Clarence  Beaumont's  son,  and  restore  me  to  my 
rightful  possessions/* 

"You  Clarence  Beaumont's  son? — Never!  This  is  rare 
acting,  Mr.  McCarty,  or  whatever  name  you  may  chooso 
to  assume ;  but  you  can  never  play  that  game  with  me.  I've 
had  too  much  experience." 

"Do  you  refuse  ?"  cried  Guyon,  who  had  anticipated  some 
cpposition,  but  was  unprepared  for  so  barefaced  a 
denial. 

"Absolutely!  Do  your  worst,  I  defy  you!  Your  posi 
tion  and  my  own  are  too  widely  removed  for  anyone  ti 
bolieve  your  story." 

"But  I  have  proof,"  Guyon  said,  producing  the  docu 
ment,  the  Italian's  sworn  statement. 

"Let  me  see  it." 

"It  shall  never  pass  into  your  hands.  I  know  far  toD 
much  of  your  hypocrisy." 

"Read  it  to  me,  then,  if  you  are  afraid  that  I  would 
retain  it." 

"Or  burn  it,  perhaps,  the  blaze  is  so  convenient.  Yes, 
1  will  read  it ;  and  mark  well  its  contents,  attested  under 
oath  before  a  magistrate  of  the  city." 

Guyon  read  the  contents  of  the  paper,  and  when  he  had 
f  nished,  looked  up  to  note  the  effect  upon  Barrington. 
He  had  been  listening  quietly,  to  all  appearances,  but  his 
countenance  was  ghastly  pale,  and  the  look  from  his  eyes 
vas  one  of  fiendish  hatred  which  might  haunt  the  beholder 
to  his  dying  hour.  One  hand  grasped  the  arm  of  the  chair, 
the  other  was  concealed  behind  him. 

There  was  a  stillness  for  a  moment  or  two,  broken  by 
;}>e  howling  of  the  storm  without,  and  the  dashing  ot 


NEMESIS.  28? 

the  wind  and  sleet  against  the  windows.  Then,  there 
came  that  low,  moaning  sound,  which  caused  Perry  to 
cfart  and  look  around.  All  was  quiet  again  when  he  spoke. 

"And  if  this  he  true,  and  you  are,  as  you  pretend  to 
be,  the  heir  to  the  Beaumont  fortune,  do  you  think  me  such 
a  fool  as  to  relinquish  what  I  have  held  all  these  years  with 
out  a  struggle  ?" 

"As  you  will.  I  have  given  you  a  chance  to  come  out 
of  it  all  without  heaping  additional  disgrace  upon  your 
family.  For  my  Mother's  sake,  I  had  hoped  that  it  would 
have  been  so." 

"You  have  told  no  one  as  yet  ?"  queried  Perry,  in  a  low 
i^ne,  stealthily  bringing  around  the  hand  from  behind 
him. 

"Not  a  soul  knows  of  this  except  the  magistrate  whose 
signature  is  on  the  paper,  and  a  fellow  who  is  in  my  em 
ploy  as  foreman." 

"Then  shall  no  one  hear  of  it  ever !"  cried  Barrington 
hoarsely,  his  violent  nature  overmastering  his  subtle 
acting. 

"That  rests  with  yourself.  Do  as  I  request;  there  is 
iio  other  alternative." 

Guyon  had  scarcely  uttered  the  words,  when  there  was 
a  flash — a  report,  and,  had  the  aim  been  more  correct,  or 
the  hand  which  held  the  revolver  more  steady,  he  would 
surely  never  have  lived  to  repeat  his  story.  As  it  was, 
\vhen  the  smoke  cleared  away,  he  saw  Barrington,  lying 
prone  on  the  floor,  the  steaming  weapon  still  clinched  in 
his  hand,  and  he,  to  all  appearance,  lifeless. 

More  fearful  than  before,  the  wind  shattered  against 
'the  house,  even  more  horribly  the  weird  moaning  sound1: 
were  heard,  and  Guyon  stood  there  for  a  moment,  not 
knowing  what  to  do.  No  one  came  to  his  assistance.  The 
library  was  remote  from  the  drawing-room,  in  which  the 


288  A  GENTLEMAN  BORN. 

family  were  assembled.  Frantically  he  touched  the  elec 
tric  button,  again  and  again;  and,  after  what  seemed 
ages,  Hastings  appeared,  who,  at  the  sight  of  his  master 
lying  on  the  floor,  and  the  young  man,  his  former  master'*? 
v^ry  self,  standing  over  him,  was  petrified  with  fear. 

"Don't  stand  there  gaping,  summon  the  household,  call 
Mr.  Brandon  and  Mrs.  Barrington;  send  for  a  physician 
quickly,  I  fear  that  your  master  is  seriously  ill,  if  not 
dead." 

"If  he  is  dead,  the  Nemesis  of  all  his  crimes  has  over 
taken  him  before  he  confessed,  and  placed  me  in  my  right 
ful  position,"  Guyon  thought.  "What  if  I  am  suspected 
of  this  deed  ?  No,  it  cannot  be !  God  grant  that  he  is  not 
dead — just  one  moment  of  consciousness  is  all  I  ask,"  and 
if  Guyon  ever  prayed  earnestly  in  his  life,  he  did  so  at  thin 
crucial  moment. 


THE  WAGES  OF  BIN.  289 


CHAPTEK  XXXIII. 

THE  WAGES  OF  SIN. 

"GoY,  in  Heaven's  name,  what  is  this?"  asked  Har 
old,  as  he  rushed  into  the  library. 

"There  is  little  time  for  explanation.  Mr.  Barringtoii 
lies  there  unconscious,  perhaps  dead.  Help  me  to  lay 
li:m  on  the  couch  before  the  family  arrives." 

"But  the  revolver,  Guy,  did  he  attempt  your  lifej" 
queried  Hal,  when  with  difficulty  they  raised  the  appar 
ently  lifeless  form. 

"I  believe  so.  There  is  the  mark  of  the  bullet  through 
that  picture.  I  was  standing  under  it  at  the  time.  Don't 
look  at  me  like  that,  Hal.  I  assure  you,  I  was  not  the  cause 
of  his  death,  if  such  it  be.  I  fear  it  is  a  visitation  from 
Heaven." 

"Hush,  here  are  Mrs.  Barrington  and  Doctor  Bruce!" 
iii  d  the  two  young  men  stood  aside  at  their  entrance. 

"Oh,  Perry,  Perry,  speak  to  me!"  cried  Muriel,  run 
ning  to  the  couch,  and  falling  on  her  knees  beside  it.  "He 
is  not  dead!  Doctor,  say  that  he  is  not!  I  left  him  but 
tin  hour  ago.  Then  he  was  not  so  seriously  ill." 

"Calm  yourself,  lady,  endeavor  to  exercise  a  little  con 
trol  over  your  feelings/'  replied  the  physician,  and  he 
iunde  a  hasty  examination  to  satisfy  himself  that  life  was 
not  yet  extinct.  He  then  set  to  work  to  administer 
a  restorative.  "Humph!"  he  muttered,  as  he  noticed  the 
revolver,  "some  terrible  excitement, — I  warned  him!"  and 


290  A  GENTLEMAN  BORN. 

quickly,  before  Muriel  could  notice  it,  he  had  disengaged 
th'p  weapon  from  Perry's  hand  and  slipped  it  into  his 
pocket. 

He  was  an  old  gentleman,  gruff  in  manner,  but  kindly 
at  heart  withal;  and  had  been  in  attendance  upon  the 
household  since  Clarence's  last  illness.  He  thought  that 
he  knew  this  family  well,  he  had  diagnosed  their  ills  and 
ai'ments  so  often;  even  had  he  been  made  the  depository 
of  many  a  secret ;  but  this  episode  puzzled  him. 

"He  will  recover,  Doctor  Bruce?"  exclaimed  Muriel, 
fciill  upon  her  knees,  and  not  as  yet  cognizant  of  Harold's 
or  Guyon's  presence. 

"I  will  be  candid  with  you,  Mrs.  Barrington;  no  good 
can  come  from  my  raising  a  false  hope.  Your  husband 
'<rill  perhaps  revive  under  the  influence  of  the  powerful 
hypodermic  I  have  administered;  but  he  cannot  live  more 
than  an  hour  at  the  most." 

"Great  God !  is  this  true  ?  Oh,  doctor,  you  are  not  de 
ceiving  me? — This  is  more  than  I  can  bear!" 

"Try  to  calm  yourself  for  his  sake,"  said  Harold,  who 
now  came  forward.  "Sit  in  this  easy  chair  by  the  couch. 
It  is  indeed  a  sad  and  terrible  visitation;  but  you  can 
be  strong  in  the  awful  emergency  if  you  will." 

"I  have  had  trials,  sore  trials,  Harold,  but  none  like 
iliis.  He  was  so  kind,  so  good  a  husband  to  me,"  she  mur- 
rM'red,  sinking  into  the  chair  with  Harold's  and  Guyon's 
r.?tistance. 

"Who  is  this  young  man,  Mr.  Brandon?"  queried  the 
doctor,  in  a  low  tone.  "It  seems  to  me  that  I  have  seen 
his  face  before." 

"This  is  Mr.  McCarty,  Doctor  Bruce,  a  friend  of  mina. 
He  was  with  Mr.  Barrington  when  the  stroke  came  upon 
l.'.'m.  Tell  me,  is  it  his  heart?" 

"Nothing  else,"  replied  the  doctor  gruffly.     "Come  here, 


THE  WAGES  OF  SIN.  291 

young  man/'  he  said  to  Guyon.  "I  want  a  word  with 
ym."  And  taking  him  aside,  he  questioned  Guyon  as  to 
tl.c  interview,  whether  it  had  been  of  an  exciting  na 
ture. 

"It  was  decidedly.  Under  the  circumstances,  I  am  loath 
to  discuss  it." 

"I  found  a  revolver  in  his  hand.     It  had  been  used." 

"Yes." 

"Humph!  And  you  being  the  only  one  with  him  at 
the  time,  the  intent  must  have  been  directed  against  your 
self.  You  are  fortunate  in  having  escaped.  For  the  sako 
of  the  family,  I  advise  you  to  remain  silent — you  under 
stand." 

"There  is  no  need  of  your  caution,  I  am  too  deeply 
interested,  I  assure  you." 

"I  could  swear  that  his  voice  is  that  of  Clarence  Beau- 
n'cnt,"  muttered  the  doctor,  returning  to  his  station  at 
Perry's  side. 

At  this  moment,  there  was  a  little  noise  outside  the 
d<  or. 

"I  will,  I  must  go  in,"  Esther's  voice  was  heard  saying 
"Don't  hold  me  back,  Mabel.  My  dear  Papa  is  dying, 
Hastings  says.  Let  me  go  in!" 

"Bid  the  girls  come  in,"  Muriel  whispered. 

And  Esther,  entering,  unheeding  all  else  save  the  form 
of  her  Father  on  the  couch,  flew  thither,  and,  'before  tha 
£ l:\sician  could  prevent  her,  had  flung  her  arms  around  his 
neck,  and  was  sobbing  bitterly — "Papa,  Papt !  you  are  not 
dead — look  at  me,  it's  Esther,  your  own  little  daughter! 
Papa,  oh,  do  look  at  me !" 

And  Mabel,  kneeling  at  Muriel's  feet,  strove  to  come- 
fort  her,  for  the  pent-up  grief  seemed  to  rend  her  soul 
on  hearing  her  child's  plaintive  cries. 

But,  above  all  the  anguish  and  lamentations,  the  sob- 


292  A  GENTLEMAN  BORA. 

bing  and  the  soul's  deepest  cries,  came  the  fearful  sound 
of  the  storm,  mocking  in  its  devilish  fury  their  grief- 
stricken  hearts. 

"Come,  child,"  said  Doctor  Bruce,  gently  raising  Esther 
from  her  position.  "Your  Father  will  look  upon  you  and 
speak  to  you  in  a  few  moments.  You  would  not  have  him 
witness  your  tears." 

"His  eyelids  are  quivering,"  whispered  Muriel,  who  had 
not  taken  her  glance  from  her  husband's  face. 

"Hush!"  said  the  physician,  "he  is  making  an  effort 
to  speak.  In  Heaven's  name,  be  calm,  lady,  the  prolonga 
tion  of  his  life  even  for  a  short  interval,  depends  upon  ab 
solute  quiet." 

"Guyon — I've — killed — him!"  were  the  first  words  that 
came  to  the  astonished  listeners;  and  Guyon  himself  more 
deeply  moved  than  anyone  in  the  room,  came  now  to  the 
couch,  and  stood  beside  it,  while  Muriel,  Esther  and  Mabel 
gazed  at  him  in  wonder. 

"No,"  he  said  softly,  "you  did  not  do  that,  sir.  Look 
at  me,  I  am  alive." 

"Thank  God!  not  that  crime — Forgive "  and  he 

feebly  stretched  out  his  hand. 

"As  surely  as  I  hope  for  forgiveness,"  Guyon  replied  in 
a  voice  that  was  scarcely  audible. 

"My  wife — is  she  here  ?"  and  Perry's  voice  seemed  to  gain 
strength  from  some  mysterious  impulse. 

"I  am  here,  dearest !"  Muriel  said,  kneeling  beside 
Guyon.  "Oh,  Perry,  you  must  not  leave  me !" 

"It  is  ordered  so,  darling — there's  not  much  time — 
listen  while  I  have  strength  to  speak — a  little  brandy, 
doctor." 

"Don't  excite  yourself,  Mr.  Barrington ;  is  all  this  neces 
sary?" 

"In  Justice,  yes,"  he  replied,  his  strength  revived  by  the 


THE  WAGES  OF  8IN.  293 

liquor.  "Muriel,  my  love,  can  you  look  upon  your  hus 
band  dying,  who  has  done  you  a  grievous  wrong  ?" 

"I  can't  believe  it — but  if  is  so,  I  forgive  you  before 
you  speak  it." 

"That  gives  me  new  life!  Your  boy  Guyon  who  was 
stolen — I — your  husband — caused  it — to  gain  his  inherit 
ance." 

"No,  no !  you  could  not  have  done  that !  You,  the  best 
of  men!  Your  mind  is  wandering,  is  it  not?  Say  that 
it  is — doctor!" 

"Humph !  I'm  not  so  sure  of  that.  Be  sparing  of  your 
words,  lady ;  his  time  is  short." 

"I  caused  your  son  to  be  abducted,  and  I  would  have 
killed  him  to-night;  Muriel — don't  turn  away — I'm 
dying !  Great  God !  have  mercy " 

They  thought  that  the  last  moment  had  come ;  for  he  had 
fallen  back  in  an  unconscious  state.  No  one  spoke.  The 
deepest  silence  filled  the  chamber,  only  Esther's  sobbing 
broke  it,  as  she  lay,  her  face  buried  in  Mabel's  bosom. 
Then,  suddenly,  Perry  rose,  half-sitting  upon  the  couch; 
and,  in  a  voice  which  seemed  to  come  from  another  world, 
he  exclaimed:  "Muriel,  this  man — your  son — Guy — on — 
Beau ,"  and  he  fell  back — dead. 

The  last  scene  in  the  life  of  Perry  Barrington  had  ended. 
His  crimes,  his  hypocrisy,  and  his  shortcomings  had  gone 
with  him  before  the  Supreme  Judge,  and  the  curtain  fell 
upon  the  one  great  act  of  reparation  and  atonement  made 
— Guyon  was  restored  to  his  Mother. 

They  were  sitting  in  her  boudoir  that  night,  Guyon  and 
Esther,  while  his  newly-found  Mother  lay  upon  her  couch 
near  by.  Harold  had  volunteered  to  make  all  necessary 
arrangements  for  the  bereaved  family,  and  Guyon  had 
warmly  accepted  his  offer. 


294:  A  GENTLEMAN  BORN. 

"Dearest  Mother,"  he  was  saying,  "do  not  grieve  so. 
Surely  it  is  not  all  sorrow  for  you  now." 

"No,  Guyon,  my  boy.  Come  here  close  to  me,  and  you 
also,  Esther,  you  are  brother  and  sister  now.  Let  me  look 
into  your  eyes.  How  strange  that  I  did  not  recognize  you 
when  I  met  you  on  different  occasions !" 

"Am  I  so  like  my  Father?"  asked  Guyon  softly,  as  he 
tenderly  smoothed  his  Mother's  forehead. 

"So  like  him,"  she  murmured,  "as  he  was  when  I  first 
knew  him.  Perry  was  his  one  great  friend  then.  To 
think  that  he  could  have  done  it !" 

"We  must  not  dwell  upon  that,  Mother  dear,  it  is 
passed.  We  have  forgiven  him;  and  his  memory  at  least 
shall  be  respected." 

"How  good  of  you!"  Muriel  said,  looking  at  her  son, 
her  eyes  suffused  with  tears.  "And  I  supposed  you  dead 
all  these  years,  whereas  you  were  alive,  growing  to  be  H 
great,  strong  man,  and  educated,  too,  to  assume  your 
proper  position.  How  did  it  all  come  about?" 

"I  had  a  pretty  hard  tussle  of  it,  Mother.  I  will  tell 
you  some  time.  You  are  not  well  enough  now  to  hear  the 
recital." 

"But  I  wish  it,  Guyon." 

"Yes,  Guy,  please  tell  us,"  said  Esther;  "the  narrative 
will  cause  Mother  to  forget  her  other  sorrow." 

And  so  Guyon  began,  relating  all  his  adventures  as  well 
as  he  could  recall  them.  Indeed,  the  events  of  his  check 
ered  career  had  been  so  vividly  impressed  upon  his  mine!, 
that  his  memory  was  not  overtaxed  in  telling  them.  He 
passed  hurriedly  over  his  sojourn  among  the  Italians,  the 
Jews,  and  the  lower  Irish  on  Cherry  Street,  although  even 
the  mention  of  his  having  lived  in  those  places  filled  his 
Mother  with  horror. 

"You  worked  as  a  common  street  urchin  selling  papers. 


THE  WAGES  OF  SIN.  295 

and  lived  in  a  hovel,  you,  my  son  and  Clarence's!  oh,  how 
dreadful  I"  she  exclaimed. 

When  he  told  of  the  tiny  house  on  Pearl  Street,  Esther 
was  interested,  and  asked  if  the  old  man  really  had  much 
money  hidden  away. 

"I  would  not  be  surprised,"  Guyon  replied.  "He  was  a 
very  penurious  old  fellow,  as  I  remember  him,  and  must 
have  accumulated  quite  a  tidy  fortune.  I  shall  hunt  him 
up  some  day/' 

The  McCartys  came  in  for  an  unbounded  share  of  his 
Mother's  praise. 

"They  did  all  that  for  you,  Guyon,"  she  said.  "Just 
as  though  you  were  their  own  child.  How  splendid  of 
them!  They  are  really  deserving  of  better  things.  We 
shall  have  them  with  us  for  a  time,  when  our  mourning 
period  is  over." 

"How  the  old  man  will  miss  you,  Guy,"  said  Esther. 
"Of  course  you  were  good  and  kind  to  them." 

"I  tried  to  be.  Surely,  if  I  were  not,  I  would  have  shown 
the  blackest  ingratitude." 

He  told  also  of  Biglin,  and  of  his  earnest  endeavors  tj 
find  the  clew  to  his  parentage.  How  he  had  been  his  great 
friend  from  his  earliest  days,  and  his  Mother  declared  then 
and  there  that  Biglin  should  receive  a  princely  reward. 

"You  don't  know  him,  Mother,"  Guyon  replied  with 
something  like  a  smile,  the  first  that  had  crossed  hid 
countenance  that  night.  "He  is  a  peculiar  fellow,  and 
believes  that  all  he  has  done  for  me  is  but  a  part  of  his 
duty  to  his  'brudder/  as  he  calls  me." 

"But  we  have  found  you  at  last;  or  rather,  you  have 
found  us,  and  you  will  never  leave  your  Mother,  especially 
now  in  her  lonely  widowed  state,  will  you,  Guy  ?" 

"Never,  Mother,"  he  replied,  pressing  an  affectionate 
kiss  upon  her  forehead.  "It  is  so  restful,  so  peaceful  at 


296  A  GENTLEMAN  BORN. 

your  side.  It  comes  to  me  now  that  I  experienced  the  same 
sensation  when  I  was  near  you  before,  only  I  could  not 
account  for  it  then." 

After  a  while,  Guyon  and  Esther  persuaded  their  Mother 
to  retire,  Esther  refusing  to  go  to  her  own  apartment. 
So  Guyon  kissed  his  Mother  good-night,  then  Esther  put  up 
her  pretty  little  mouth  to  be  kissed.  The  action  was  so 
simple,  so  spontaneous,  that  he  could  not  resist  hugging  her, 
bidding  her  keep  a  watchful  guard  over  Mother,  and  not 
allow  her  to  leave  the  room.  Then  he  retired  to  his  own 
apartment. 

But  in  the  gray  hours  of  morning,  when  all  was  quiet 
in  the  house,  a  lone  figure,  attired  in  a  dressing 
gown,  slipped  from  Muriel's  room.  Quietly  she  descended 
the  stair,  and  slowly  opened  the  door  of  that  other 
chamber  where  something  lay,  awful  in  the  solemnity  of 
Seath.  She  paused  a  moment,  as  the  horror  of  the  scene 
came  upon  her — then,  going  over,  raised  the  covering 
from  off  the  face.  There  was  one  piercing  cry  of  anguish 
and  a  heavy  thud,  as  she  fell  to  the  floor. 


DOUBTING.  297 


CHAPTER  XXXIV. 

DOUBTING. 

THAT  same  evening,  whilst  Guyon  was  conversing  with 
his  Mother  and  sister,  Mabel  Gordon  was  sitting  alone  in 
her  boudoir.  She  had  slipped  out  noiselessly  from  the  library 
when  the  denouement  had  come,  desiring  the  privacy  and 
quiet  of  her  chamber  for  some  reflections  on  the  event 
which  had  just  transpired.  It  was  all  so  sudden,  so  shock 
ing  that  her  guardian,  her  Father's  trusted  and  most 
esteemed  friend,  should  have  attempted  the  life  of  Guyon — 
that  he  should  have  been  compelled,  as  it  were,  at  the 
bourne  of  life,  to  confess  the  awful  crime  against  the  young 
man,  and  declare  at  last  his  relationship  to  Mrs.  Barring- 
ton. 

She  was  reclining  on  her  couch,  where  she  had  thrown 
herself,  gazing  into  the  crackling,  spluttering  logs  on  the 
hearth.  One  arm,  as  delicate  and  white  as  chiseled  marble, 
was  tossed  above  her  head,  while  her  hair,  loose  an  dis 
hevelled,  fell  in  luxuriant  tresses  over  her  shoulders.  Her 
eyes  were  bright  with  a  strange  new  light  which  was  not 
unmixed  with  vexation  as  her  thoughts  wandered  apace. 

"The  last  barriers  are  removed.  His  position  is  really 
all  that  one  could  wish  for.  Oh,  why  am  I  thinking  of  him 
at  all,  after  what  Harold  told  me !  That  letter — if  I  had 
not  known  it  all !  If  I  could  believe  that  there  was  some 
palliating  excuse  for  his  conduct — but  no.  There  could  be 
none  to  cause  him  to  lower  himself  to  such  a  degree.  That 


298  A   GENTLEMAN  BORN. 

other  girl !  am  I  jealous  ?  to  own  as  much  would  portend 
that  I  love — hush!  these  walls  must  not  bear  witness  to 
my  blush!  And  that  story  which  Harold  told  about  his 
having  known  her  from  infancy — perhaps  he  loves  her! 
Again  the  suspicion  of  jealousy.  Oh,  dear  me !  I  am  truly 
in  a  dilemma,"  she  exclaimed,  and  she  endeavored  to  divert 
her  thoughts  into  another  channel. 

She  pictured  the  scene  in  Mrs.  Barrington's  room,  how 
pleasant  it  would  be  for  Esther  now,  having  a  brother  to 
care  for  her;  and  the  good,  kind  lady  who  had  been 
for  so  long  a  second  Mother  to  herself — what  must  be 
her  feelings  to-night?  "Imagine  me  married  for  years 
to  a  man  who  was  leading  a  hypocritical,  criminal  life! 
Would  my  love  prove  equal  to  the  ordeal  she  has  just  passed 
through  ?  Could  I  love  and  revere  his  memory  ?  And,  yet, 
those  words  of  forgiveness  which  were  spoken,  and  Guyon's. 
too !  Certainly  he  must  be  noble  at  heart."  Again 
the  same  old  train  of  musing  came.  She  knew  that  she 
must  love  him — was  it  love?  that  sensation  of  awakening 
joy?  If  it  were  only  more  bright  and  unclouded! 

How  the  hours  sped  by,  she  did  not  know.  She  had  not 
retired,  the  lights  were  still  shedding  their  brilliancy 
through  her  apartment,  when,  through  the  windows,  came 
a  tinge  of  another  color.  Was  it  the  moon,  breaking  its 
storm-cloud  prison  and  shimmering  on  the  snowy  case 
ment  ?  or  was  it  the  first  ray  of  dawn  ?  Just  then,  she  heard 
the  scream  from  the  room  below.  It  startled  her  from 
her  reveries  and  dreams.  She  sprang  from  the  couch, 
while  the  recollection  came  swift  upon  her  that  there 
from  whence  the  sound  came,  was  the  chamber  of  death. 

Mabel  Gordon  was  not  a  girl  to  be  stricken  by  a  sudden 
terror.  Appalling  as  the  idea  appeared  which  thrust  itself 
upon  her  imagination,  she  hastily  drew  a  cloak  around 
her  light  apparel,  and  boldly  descended  to  the  lower  floor. 


DOUBTING.  299 

Then,  as  she  entered  the  room,  by  the  aid  of  the  light 
burning  dimly,  she  saw  the  form  of  Mrs.  Barrington  beside 
the  bier.  Another  girl  would  have  cried  aloud  for  as 
sistance.  Mabel  uttered  not  a  word.  Bending  over  the 
prostrate  form,  she  chafed  her  hands,  and  temples,  and 
was  striving  to  raise  her,  when  she  heard  another  step 
approaching.  Never,  perhaps,  was  she  at  the  same  time 
more  thankful  and  abashed  than  when  she  beheld  Guyon 
entering.  Neither  said  a  word.  He  had  not  seen  her 
since  her  entrance  into  the  library  the  previous  night.  Hau 
she  heard  all  ?  Did  she  know  that  the  obstacles  to  his  love 
were  removed?  These  were  the  first  thoughts  that  came 
to  him  when  his  eyes  met  hers;  but  he  learned  nothing 
from  the  glance.  Mutely  she  pointed  to  his  Mother's  form, 
and  he  was  at  her  side  in  an  instant. 

"Mother!"  he  said,  "Mother,  you  here,  and  uncon 
scious  ?" 

"Shall  we  summon  Hastings?"  queried  Mabel. 

"No,  it  is  not  necessary.  How  did  you  come  here,  Miss 
Gordon?" 

"I  heard  the  noise  from  my  boudoir  above,  and  came." 

"A  girl  in  a  thousand,"  he  thought;  then  to  Mabel: 
"May  I  ask  you  to  go  to  my  Mother's  room  and  awaken 
Esther?  Have  the  smelling  salts  and  a  little  brandy  and 
water  ready.  I  will  carry  my  Mother  up  there  instantly." 

Without  pausing  to  question  his  strength  or  ability, 
Mabel  flew  to  do  his  bidding;  and  Guyon  raising  that 
dear  form  as  gently  and  lightly  as  though  it  were  a  child, 
bore  her  to  her  room  and  laid  her  upon  the  couch,  while 
Esther  and  Mabel  rendered  what  aid  they  could. 

After  a  time  Muriel  revived;  but  when  it  was  later, 
Guyon  summoned  Doctor  Bruce  who,  without  hesitating 
declared  that  Mrs.  Barrington  was  a  sick  woman,  and  must 
remain  in  bed  for  several  days. 


300  A  GENTLEMAN  BORN. 

Hence  it  was  that  some  time  elapsed  after  Perry  Barring- 
ton's  remains  had  been  laid  to  rest,  before  his  widow  was 
able  to  be  about,  to  grace  the  household  scenes  once  more 
with  her  presence,  and  spread  the  influence  of  her  patient, 
winsome  nature  over  the  sorrow-stricken  atmosphere  'of 
home. 

There  was  a  great  funeral.  At  least  so  society  said, 
and  it  must  have  been  true.  The  church  which  Mr.  Bar- 
rington  had  attended  for  so  many  years,  and  in  which 
he  was  known  as  a  brilliant  light,  was  thronged  with 
the  creme  de  la  creme;  all  properly  shocked  to  learn  of 
his  sudden  death.  The  eulogy,  too,  was  all  that  could  ba 
desired.  Fulsome  in  praise,  holding  up  the  deceased  as 
an  example  of  integrity  and  purity  of  life;  as  a  model 
husband;  as  a  man  public-spirited  and  open-hearted; 
charitable,  and  true  to  the  interests  of  his  friends.  Alas. 
the  pity  of  it !  What  a  parody  on  poor  Perry's  life !  How 
he  would  have  laughed  in  his  sleeve,  so  to  speak,  if  he  had 
heard  the  same  during  his  lifetime,  in  the  palmiest  days 
of  his  acting. 

Down  near  the  entrance  of  the  church,  crouching  in  r, 
pew,  heavily  veiled  and  in  mourning  garb,  was  one  who 
perhaps  shared  the  grief  of  the  nearest  relatives.  It  was 
Mildred.  When  the  news  of  Perry's  death  came  to  her. 
all  the  memory  of  the  ill-treatment  she  had  received,  the 
insults  and  abuse,  the  torture  he  had  brought  to  her  life, 
was  banished.  She  thought  of  him  as  one  whom  she  had 
once  loved  as  only  woman  can  intensely  love.  The  smould 
ering  flame  of  that  deep  devotion  burned  lively  now  as 
she  bowed  her  head,  and  real  earnest  tears  flowed  silently 
— her  one  pure  tribute  to  his  memory. 

The  Barrington  home  was  closed  for  the  second  time 
in  the  memory  of  old  Hastings,  the  butler.  This  good 
old  man,  hearing,  as  a  privileged  servant,  of  Guyon's 


DOUBTING  301 

return,  bestowed  upon  him  his  most  undivided  attention. 
For  hours  together  he  would  place  himself  in  a  position 
where  he  could  get  a  good  look  at  the  young  master,  as  he 
called  him,  muttering  to  himself  that  the  Lord  might  have 
spared  that  villain  Barrington  until  he  could  have  ad 
ministered  a  wholesome  chastisement. 

Guyon  saw  no  one  saving  Harold,  who  called  frequently, 
and  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Brandon,  the  latter  spending  most  of  her 
time  with  her  old  friend,  endeavoring  to  divert  her  thoughts 
from  too  gloomy  subjects,  urging  her  at  times  to  give  up 
the  old  place  with  all  its  unsavory  memories,  and  take  a 
Southern  trip.  But  Muriel  would  not  consent  to  the  ar 
rangement. 

"Do  you  know  what  Esther  was  telling  me  last  evening  ?" 
said  Harold  one  night,  when  he  was  sitting  in  Guyon's  room 
chatting  upon  various  topics  of  interest. 

"Doubtless  something  concerning  yourself,  old  fellow." 

"Not  a  bit  of  it,  Guy.  She  talks  Guyon,  Guyon,  con 
tinuously  until  I  am  so  wearied  that  I  plead  with  her  to 
change  the  conversation." 

"You  cannot  blame  Esther.  She  is  my  sister  now,  and 
I  am  very  much  devoted  her." 

"Keally!  I  don't  see  particularly  why  you  should  be. 
She's  only  your  half-sister,  anyway." 

"But  she  is  my  Mother's  child,  Hal,  and  all  the  traits 
of  her  character  are  hers." 

"I  endorse  the  sentiment  most  heartily;  and  when  I 
think  of  it,  I  never  fail  to  add,  'for  which,  0  Lord,  we 
are  truly  thankful' !" 

"But  what  was  Esther  saying?" 

"Oh,  yes.  She  says  that  Mabel  is  talking  of  returning 
to  Eichmond." 

"The  deuce  you  say !  What  on  earth  is  the  trouble  ?  Is 
she  not  contented  here  ?" 


302  A  GENTLEMAN  BORN. 

"Apparently  not." 

"Why?     Is  my  presence  intolerable  to  her?" 

"I'm  sure  I  don't  know.     Why  don't  you  ask  her?" 

"I  couldn't  do  that.  It  wouldn't  be  just  the  thing  under 
the  existing  circumstances;  still,  I  have  noticed  that  she 
avoids  me,  will  not  enter  into  conversation  with  me  alone, 
and,  in  fact,  appears  to  look  upon  me  as  an  intruder." 

"Nonsense,  Guy !  that's  all  bosh !  The  fact  of  the  matter 
k,  that  I'm  a  little  to  blame  for  it  all." 

"You,  Hal!  of  all  the  world?     I  cannot  believe  it." 

"Listen.  You  remember  that  she  was  desirous  of  having 
me  ferret  out  the  facts  contained  in  Barclay's  letter." 

"Yes ;  and  you  did  so." 

"She  was  also  anxious  to  learn  the  result,  and  I  was 
obliged  to  tell  her." 

"You  told  her  all?" 

"I  assure  you,  it  was  under  the  hottest  fire  I  would  ever 
care  to  sustain.  My,  she  would  make  a  capital  lawyer! 
The  way  she  cross-questioned  me  about  my  finding  you  in 
Dimples'  apartment;  how  you  came  to  know  Dimples; 
how  long  you  had  known  her,  and  the  like." 

"Great  God!  This  is  too  much,  Hal.  To  think  that 
now,  when  it  seemed  all  clear  sailing,  my  chance  of  win 
ning  her  is  thus  cut  off!" 

"Don't  be  too  hasty.  It  is  not  so  bad  that  you  should 
bury  yourself  in  the  depths,  and  then  seek  the  light  through 
the  medium  of  opium  again." 

"Nonsense !  have  I  not  my  Mother  ?" 

"Of  course  your  Mother  counts  for  something — but  she 
if?  not  your  sweetheart." 

"Don't  try  to  jolly  me,  Hal.  I'm  not  in  the  humor  for 
it.  Do  you  think  she  really  detests  me  because  of  what 
you  have  said?" 

"I  am  certain  that  she  has  not  the  highest  opinion 


DOUBTING.  303 

of  you.  How  foolish  some  women  are!  "What  do  they 
look  for  in  man?  An  angel,  exalted  above  all  mundane 
thoughts  and  desires?  For  my  part,  if  I  were  a  girl,  I 
wouldn't  let  that  little  episode  of  yours  have  tne  minimum 
cf  weight  in  the  balance  of  love."  • 

"You  do  not  know  her,  Hal/' 

"I  think  that  I  have  had  the  pleasure  of  her  acquaint 
ance  a  little  longer  than  you." 

"True ;  but  you  forget  that  she  is  a  girl  of  the  warmest 
and  most  noble  nature,  concealed  for  the  greater  part  under 
a  cold  and  seemingly  trifling  exterior.  Her  ideals  are 
the  purest  and  most  lofty." 

"And  I  am  thankful  that  Esther  doesn't  give  herself 
such  high  fallutin'  ideas.  I'm  fairly  good;  but  I'm  not 
a  saint  nor  an  angel  either." 

"What  is  your  advice  in  this  instance,  grave  mentor?" 
queried  Guyon,  who  did  not  like  his  friend's  trivial  re 
marks. 

"Seriously,  I  would  ask  your  good  Mother  to  use  her  in 
fluence  with  Miss  Gordon  to  prevent  her  departure.  She 
idolizes  your  Mother,  thinks  that  there  is  no  one  like 
her  in  the  world." 

"Nor  is  there,  Hal." 

"Except  a  certain  Southern  lass,  whose  warmth  of 
nature  has  been  chilled  by  the  Northern  blast — Forgive 
me,  Guy,  I  couldn't  help  it,  really." 

"Mother  will  perceive  that  I  am  interested  in  Miss  Gor 
don." 

"Why  shouldn't  you  be,  at  least  for  Esther's  sake  ?  The 
poor  little  lass  is  even  now  disconsolate  at  the  thought  of 
losing  her  chum." 

"I  will  do  it,  Hal.  Then,  if  she  still  persists  in  her 
determination,  I  will  go  away  for  a  while." 

The  following    day,  Guyon  had  a  long   talk   with  his 


304  A  GENTLEMAN  BORN. 

Mother.  One  of  those  morning-room  talks  which  Muriel 
enjoyed  so  much;  only  she  was  somewhat  anxious  about 
him,  he  had  appeared  sad  and  depressed  for  some  days. 

"What  is  troubling  you,  my  son  ?"  she  asked,  as  he  seated 
himself  at  hej  side. 

"Many  things,  Mother  dear.  Most  of  all  lest  my  presence 
here  should  be  a  cause  of  annoyance  to  anyone." 

"Impossible !  how  could  that  be  ?  Not  to  Esther  nor  to 
myself,  I  am  certain;  are  we  not  delighted  to  have  found 
you,  my  boy?" 

"Miss  Gordon  is  talking  of  leaving,"  Guyon  said  with 
seme  hesitancy. 

"And  if  she  should  wish  to  go,  why  do  you  ascribe  the 
ciiuse  to  yourself?"  asked  Muriel,  looking  full  into  her 
son's  honest  brown  eyes;  "is  there  anything  between  you, 
dear?" 

"Nothing,  I  assure  you,  Mother.  I  have  not  spoken  to 
her  privately  since  I  came;  still  she  appears  to  avoid  my 
society." 

"That  is  strange !  Now  that  I  recall  it,  I  have  myself 
remarked  the  same  thing ;  but  I  put  it  down  to  the  sudden 
change  of  events  in  our  quiet  household,  and  to  her  en 
deavoring  to  reconcile  your  past  position  with  the  present, 
nothing  more.  She  is  a  girl  in  a  thousand,  Guyon.  When 
you  are  prepared  to  settle  in  life,  I  wish  that  your  wife  , 
would  be  such  a  one  as  she." 

"Honestly,  do  you,  Mother  ?"  and  Guyon  told  all  his  old 
longings,  his  hopes  and  fears,  and  the  havoc  which  it 
had  made  in  his  life. 

"Poor  boy !  So  you  really  love  her  ?  You  wish  her  to 
remain  ?" 

"Not  only  for  my  sake ;  but  for  your  own  and  Esther's. 
She  has  been  with  you  so  long.  She  is  almost  a  daughter, 
is  she  not?" 


DOUBTING.  305 

"Truly,  Guyon,  it  would  grieve  me  to  part  with  her 
now.  I  will  try  to  persuade  her — never  fear,  dearest,  your 
secret  shall  be  safe  in  my  keeping." 

So  it  happened  that  Mabel  did  not  leave  the  Beaumont 
mansion,  as  it  was  called  now;  and  Guyon,  conscious  that 
her  changed  resolution  was  due  to  no  other  motive  than  a 
desire  to  gratify  his  Mother,  went  away  on  a  short  trip, 
a  shooting  expedition  on  the  Southern  Coasts,  taking  Hal 
along  for  company;  and  while  Muriel  was  loathe  to  part 
with  her  son  so  soon  after  she  had  recovered  him,  she  was 
convinced  that  his  determination  was  right,  and  bade 
him  not  lose  courage,  for  she  would  pray  for  his  final 
success. 


306  A  GENTLEMAN  BORN. 


CHAPTER  XXXV. 

ON  CHRISTMAS  EVE. 

"WHAT  are  you  grieving  about,  my  dear?" 

"Why  do  you  ask  the  question  ?  Do  I  look  careworn  and 
dejected,  Pet?" 

"Honestly  you  do.  You  have  not  assumed  your  wonted 
cheerfulness  since  poor  Papa  died.  Really,  I  don't  think 
you  have  smiled  once." 

"Haven't  I?  Well,  a  house  of  mourning  is  not  exactly 
the  place  for  laughter  or  merriment." 

"You  wanted  to  go  away,  I  know.  It  was  so  good  of  you 
to  stay  here  with  all  the  gloomy  surroundings,  just  for 
cur  sakes,  Mama's  and  mine,  when  you  might  have  been 
having  a  glorious  time  in  Richmond." 

"Even  if  I  had  gone  away,  I  do  not  think  that  I  could 
have  entered  into  the  social  whirl  at  my  old  home  with 
all  the  vigor  of  former  days." 

"Here  it  is  Christmas  Eve !  Don't  it  seem  strange  that 
we  are  not  having  a  big  time?  How  we  planned  and 
worked  for  the  holiday  celebration !" 

"L'homme  propose,  mais  le  bon  Dieu  dispose." 

They  were  sitting  in  the  drawing-room,  this  saddest 
Christmas  Eve  of  all  in  Esther's  remembrance.  After 
dinner,  Mrs.  Barrington  had  joined  them,  and  the  three 
l&dies  were  endeavoring,  each  in  her  own  way  to  throw 
off  the  shadow  of  sadness  which  seemed  to  settle  more 
than  usually  heavy  upon  the  household.  Muriel  had  heard 
from  Guyon  but  once  during  the  two  weeks  of  his  absence ; 


ON  CHRISTMAS  EVE.  307 

then  his  letter  was  so  vague,  with  no  mention  of  a  definite 
time  for  his  return,  that  her  motherly  heart  sustained  a 
pang  of  disappointment  in  her  new-found  son.  Although 
she  knew  well  the  cause  of  his  absence,  and  imagined  what 
the  sacrifice  must  have  cost  him,  still,  she  required  the 
manly  strength  of  his  presence,  and,  above  all,  his  filial 
affection. 

After  conversing  with  the  young  ladies  for  some  time, 
she  left  them,  saying  that  she  wished  to  be  alone  for  awhile ; 
and  they,  being  left  together,  Esther  broached  the  sub 
ject  which  had  been  uppermost  in  her  mind  since  her 
brother's  departure. 

"Do  you  know,  I  believe  Mother  is  grieving  because  of 
Guyon's  absence,"  she  said,  after  a  few  moments'  pause; 
and  she  took  her  friend's  hand  in  her  own,  marvelling 
that  it  was  so  icy  cold. 

"Doubtless  she  is.     Why  did  he  go,  I  wonder?'* 

"As  though  you  do  not  know!" 

"I  know?  How  silly,  child!  Did  he  not  say  that  he 
was  going  for  a  little  shooting  expedition?  Surely  there 
is  nothing  in  that." 

"Perhaps  not  on  the  surface.  I  thought  you  knew 
Guyon  better.  There  was  a  time  in  my  remembrance  when 
you  appeared  to  have  a  deep  insight  into  his  character. 
Do  you  recall  the  morning  when  you  received  that  letter, 
and  how  warmly  you  espoused  his  cause?" 

"Yes,"  rather  faintly.  "Please  don't  speak  of  that, 
Esther.  My,  how  cold  it  is!" 

"Let  us  draw  up  nearer  the  fire — shall  I  get  you  a 
wrap  ?" 

"No,  thanks,  I  am  warmer  already.  How  cheerful  the 
glow  from  the  log-fire." 

"Yes;  but,  May  dear,"  said  the  young  girl,  looking 
earnestly  into  the  countenance  of  her  friend,  "tell  me,  are 


308  A  GENTLEMAN  BORN. 

you  truly  ignorant  of  the  real  cause  of  my  brother's  de 
parture  ?" 

"How  should  I  know  ?"  Mabel  replied  with  well-assumed 
indifference. 

"It  was  because  of  you.  He  did  not  tell  me;  but  I 
guessed  it  from  something  that  Harold  said." 

"Because  of  me  I"  Miss  Gordon  exclaimed,  and  a  tinge  of 
color  lighted  up  her  pallid  cheeks. 

"Yes,"  Esther  whispered,  "he  thinks  very  much  of  you, 
May;  and  when  he  saw  that  you  shunned  his  company, 
ever  since  he  has  been  with  us,  and  when  you  wished  to 
leave,  he  thought  it  best  for  him  to  go ;  that  he  being  away, 
you  would  feel  less  constrained  and  more  happy." 

"All  this  is  your  own  foolish  imagining,  Esther  dear. 
How  can  you  know  so  much  .of  your  brother's  inmost 
thoughts  and  feelings,  when  he  has  not  spoken  to  you  on 
the  subject?" 

"Well,  I  may  be  wrong.  You  should  know  better  than 
I,  May,  for  you  have  had  more  experience;  still,  I  wish 
that  he  hadn't  gone,  since  you  are  so  miserable." 

"Oh,  Esther,  if  you  knew  it  all!  All  the  cause  of  my 
imhappiness ;  but  no,  I  cannot  tell  it — not  even  to  you." 

"If  it  would  make  things  easier  for  you,  dearest? 
Listen,  aren't  we  all  but  sisters?  Have  we  ever  kept  a 
secret  from  each  other?" 

"Not  until  now.  This  is  too  great,  too  awful  for  you 
to  hear!  I  would  not  shock  your  innocent  ears  with  the 
recital." 

"You  do  not  mean  anything  concerning  Guyon?  Some 
one  has  been  talking  ill  of  him.  Oh,  May,  did  you  not 
tell  me  once,  when  I  scarcely  knew  him,  that  I  should 
not  doubt  his  integrity?  And  now,  that  he  is  one  of 
us,  my  own  almost  brother,  my  Mother's  child,  you  say 
all  this?" 


ON  CHRISTMAS  EVE.  309 

"Great  Heaven !  what  have  I  done?"  cried  Mabel.  "No, 
child,  trust  him  to  the  fullest  extent — believe  him  innocent, 
honorable  and  good." 

"But  you!" 

"I — I — do  not  ask  me  more  to-night.  It  would  have 
been  better  if  I  had  left  you  all  when  I  first  resolved  upon 
it." 

"Listen!"  Esther  cried,  jumping  up  in  excitement. 
"There  is  the  sound  of  sleigh-bells.  They  are  stopping 
at  our  house !  Who  can  it  be,  I  wonder  ?"  and  she  ran  to 
the  window  and  peered  out  through  the  heavy  drapery. 
"It's  a  man,  tall,  all  wrapped  in  furs — and  another  just 
Hal's  size!  Oh,  May,  I'm  sure  it's  they!" 

"I  must  go  to  my  room,"  Mabel  said ;  "I  am  in  no  con 
dition  to  meet  them  to-night." 

But  before  she  could  make  good  her  escape,  Guyon  en 
tered  the  room,  accompanied  by  his  chum,  Harold  Bran 
don. 

"Couldn't  wait  even  to  shake  off  the  snow  or  change  our 
apparel;  you  must  excuse  us  this  once,  ladies,"  said  Har 
old. 

"As  though  there  was  any  need  of  it!  Come  over  to 
the  fire.  Eing  for  Hastings,  will  you,  Guy?  Oh,  don't 
hug  me  so  hard,  even  if  you  are  my  big  brother." 

"I  wish  that  I  were  even  your  little  brother,"  muttered 
Harold,  "I'd  give  anything  for  a  like  privilege.  Miss 
Gordon,  you  are  as  beautiful  as  ever,  only  a  trifle  paler, 
I  think." 

"Do  you,  really?  Probably  it's  the  light.  You  know 
my  complexion  does  not  always  stand  the  severest  test." 

By  this  time,  Hastings  had  appeared,  and  relieved  the 
young  men  of  their  great  coats  and  wrappings;  then 
they  sat  down  with  the  ladies  beside  the  roaring  fire. 

"It's  such  a  grand  surprise !     Mother  will  be  more  than 


310  A  GENTLEMAN  BORN. 

delighted  to  see  you,  Guy,"  said  Esther.  "She  has  been 
talking  about  you  to-night,  wondering  why  you  had  not 
written." 

"It  was  boorish  in  me,  but  Hal  can  tell  you  that  we 
hadn't  a  ghost  of  a  chance  to  catch  the  mail  but  once.  We 
got  out  on  an  island  in  some  out  of  way  place  off  the  coast 
of  Georgia — any  amount  of  shooting;  but  no  society  save 
a  few  aborigines  and  our  own  precious  selves." 

"You  must  have  enjoyed  the  solitude,"  Mabel  said  with 
the  faintest  suspicion  of  a  smile. 

"Enjoy  it?  You  wouldn't  say  that,  May,  if  you  had 
seen  him,  wandering  around  like  a  troubled  spirit  after 
the  day's  sport  was  over,  and  pacing  the  camp  at  night 
like  a  sturdy  sentinel  on  duty." 

"Did  he  do  that?"  queried  Esther.  "I  really  can't  see 
what  fun  there  was  in  it.  Why  did  you  remain?" 

"That's  what  I  said  to  him,"  Harold  replied.  "Do  you 
know,  Esther,  I  wanted  to  come  home " 

"I  don't  believe  you !" 

"Very  well,  that's  your  privilege.  I  simply  state  that 
I  wished  to  return  for  business  reasons.  My  studies,  you 
are  aware,  were  sacrificed  for  my  outing." 

"There!  I  knew  it  was  all  your  old  studies  or  some 
thing  of  that  kind.  Listen  to  him,  May,  isn't  he  perfectly 
horrible,  and  just  when  he's  come  home!" 

"Hal,  I  forbid  your  treatin~  my  sister  so  brutally.  He 
is  really  joking,  Pet,  I  can  vouch  for  it  that  he  almost 
went  on  his  knees  to  me,  entreating  me  to  return 
sooner." 

"Ha,  ha!  and  you — Miss  May,  would  you  believe  that 
Guy  had  a  certain  young  lady  on  his  mind  all  the  time, 
the  imaginary  fear  of  whom " 

"Hal,  another  word,  and  our  friendship  ends." 


ON  CHRISTMAS  EVE.  311 

"End  of  first  act,  bravo !  Well  said,  my  gallant  hero ! 
We  shall  name  no  names,  but  cry  a  truce." 

"And  I've  so  much  to  say  to  you,  Harold,"  murmured  the 
little  Miss  of  April  temper,  who  had  been  near  to  tears 
a  moment  ago,  "let's  adjourn  to  that  cosy  tete-a-tete  over 
there." 

"Good!  It's  regularly  moved  and  seconded  that  we 
two  adjourn.  Question!  All  in  favor " 

"I  say  no,"  Mabel  replied,  shrinking  from  the  possibility 
of  being  left  alone  with  Guyon. 

"You're  the  minority,  for  Guyon  has  not  voted,"  re 
plied  Harold,  rising  as  he  spoke ;  and  Esther,  looking  back, 
nodded  encouragingly  to  her  brother. 

There  was  a  moment  or  two  of  silence,  broken  by  the 
peals  of  laughter  from  the  further  end  of  the  room  where 
Harold  and  Esther  were  snugly  ensconced. 

"Are  you  glad  that  I  have  returned?"  Guyon  asked  in 
a  low  tone.  "You  have  not  as  yet  said  a  word  of  welcome." 

"Of  course,  we  are  delighted,  if  only  for  your  Mother's 
sake,  Mr.  Beaumont.  Was  it  not  cruel  to  leave  her  at 
such  a  time  as  this,  only  a  week  or  two  after  her  bereave 
ment,  and  for  pleasure?" 

"That  is  your  idea  of  my  going?  I  did  not  think  you 
could  judge  me  so  harshly.  However,  I  will  tell  you  that 
my  dear  Mother  knew  the  true  cause,  and  much  as  she 
regretted  my  leaving  home,  she  approved  of  my  decision.1' 

"I  am  pleased  to  hear  that,"  replied  Miss  Gordon 
simply,  her  eyes  cast  down,  and  her  hands  toying  nervously 
with  her  handkerchief.  Even  though  she  wished  to  follow 
the  wiser  dictates  of  her  judgment,  she  could  not  but  feel 
more  happy  in  Guyon's  presence. 

"Do  you  wish  me  to  tell  you  the  real  cause?"  he  asked. 

"As  you  will.     Am  I  not  a  good  listener?" 

"It  was  because  of  your  coldness,  your  avoiding  me, 


312  A  GENTLEMAN  BORN. 

and  appearing  miserable  when  I  was  near,  I  noticed  all 
this,  and  although  I  was  at  first  ignorant  of  the  reason, 
and  judged  that  it  was  only  the  old  time  aversion  to  me. 
I  determined  that  if  my  absence  would  bring  a  slight  ray 
of  sunshine  to  you,  I  must  go." 

"But  it  did  not.     You  misunderstood  me." 

"Perhaps  I  did.  Do  you  mean  that  you  were  unhappy 
while  I  was  away?" 

"Yes,  since  you  ask  me.  I  want  you  to  see  how  foolish 
it  was  in  you  to  do  this." 

"Doubtless !  We  are  playing  at  riddles.  Let  us  be  out 
spoken,  Miss  Gordon.  I  know  the  cause  of  your  dis 
pleasure,  and  I  must  make  one  effort  to  remove  it.  If  I 
fail,  if  you  persist  in  believing  me  other  than  I  am,  our 
friendship,  I  fear,  must  be  but  a  sad  memory." 

Mabel  remained  silent,  not  trusting  herself  to  speak,  as 
buoyant  hope  whispered  to  her  that  he  was  about  to  ex 
onerate  himself ;  and  her  bosom  heaved  with  ill  suppressed 
emotion. 

"Harold  has  told  me,"  continued  Guyon,  "that  you  de 
sired  information  regarding  the  letter  Barclay  wrote.  I 
fear  that  all  his  words  must  have  placed  me  in  a  very 
unsavory  light  before  your  eyes;  for  he  added  that  even 
his  attempt  to  justify  my  actions  was  not  accepted." 

"Really,  Mr.  Beaumont,  I  prefer  not  to  go  over  all  that 
again.  The  memory  of  it  is  too  shocking." 

"I  feared  so;  still,  were  I  in  my  former  position,  it 
would  be  different.  Now,  all  is  changed.  I  am  known  as 
Mrs.  Barrington's  son,  and  as  such,  my  character  must 
be  cleared  from  the  slightest  shadow  of  reproach." 

"What  I  have  heard  shall  be  well-guarded,  I  promise 
you." 

"Of  that,  I  have  not  the  slightest  doubt,"  Guyon  re 
plied  warmly.     "But,  Miss  Gordon,  truthfully,  I  care  not 


ON  CHRISTMAS  EVE.  313 

what  others  think,  if  you  believe  me  to  be  the  base  creature 
Barclay  painted  me." 

"How  can  I  think  otherwise? — the  proofs." 

"These  I  shall  endeavor  to  disprove.  You  know  what 
kind  of  a  man  Barclay  is.  I  shall  say  nothing  of  the  part 
which  Mr.  Barrington  assumed — his  past  is  buried  with 
him.  The  time  for  carrying  out  the  scheme  was  well 
planned.  I  was  overwhelmed  with  the  deepest  melancholy, 
all  my  long  and  fruitless  attempts  to  find  my  parentage  had 
apparently  come  to  a  close,  there  was  nothing  further  for 
me  in  that  direction.  Then,  too,  one  other  cherished 
aim,  of  which  I  cannot  speak  to  you  now,  had  vanished. 
God  only  knows  how  sorely  I  was  tried!  It  was  at  that 
noment  I  met  Barclay.  He  had  spoken  to  me  on  a  previous 
occasion  of  opium  smoking  as  a  panacea  for  depression. 
I  grasped  the  idea,  went  with  him  to  what  he  called  his 
bachelor  apartments,  smoked  the  drug,  and  found  re 
lief." 

"And  you  were  weak  enough  to  contract  the  habit/' 
Mabel  murmured,  still  avoiding  his  gaze,  but  drinking 
in  eagerly  his  every  word. 

"I  was  weak !  that  is  my  only  excuse.  It  may  be  a  poor 
one,  but  no  one  can  picture  my  condition  mentally  and 
physically.  Then,  while  I  was  there,  he  introduced  the 
second  part  of  the  plot.  I  shall  not  dwell  upon  it.  He  told 
you  that  I  was  smoking  in  the  society  of  an  actress.  That 
was  true — and  she,  thank  Heaven!  was  the  girl  whom 
I  found  when  a  baby.  She  was  in  those  days  as  a  sister 
to  me  only — nothing  more,  I  can  swear  to  it." 

"She  made  love  to  you,  Harold  said." 

"If  she  did,  poor  child,  she  has  paid  bitterly  for  her 
error." 

"You  did  not  return  her  love?"  Mabel  asked,  looking 


314  A  GENTLEMAN  BORN. 

for  the  first  time  into  his  eyes,  and  reading  there  the 
truth  of  his  statement. 

"No,  as  Heaven  is  my  witness,  I  did  not.  I  pitied  her 
fate.  I  rejoiced  when  she  left  the  place  and  went  to  live 
with  her  Mother  whom  she  had  found,  that  was  all.  Now, 
before  you  say  a  word,  Miss  Gordon,  is  it  too  much  for  me 
to  ask  you  to  banish  your  preconceived  ideas  from  your 
mind ;  will  you  at  least  trust  in  my  honor  as  a  gentleman  ?;' 

"I  should  be  ashamed  to  do  less,"  Mabel  replied,  draw 
ing  herself  up  proudly.  "Yes,  I  trust  you  for  your 
Mother's  sake/' 

"That  is  all,"  Guyon  murmured. 

"I  am  thankful  it  is  not  as  I  thought,"  she  said,  rising, 
while  the  light  in  her  beautiful  eyes,  no  longer  clouded, 
was  sufficient  for  him.  "I  must  go  now,"  she  said,  "your 
Mother  will  be  anxious  to  see  you." 

"I  shall  go  to  her  directly, — good-night,  Miss  Gordon,''5 
be  said,  taking  her  hand,  "we  shall  at  least  be  friends 
now." 

"I  think  I  can  promise  you  that,"  she  replied,  smiling. 


WHISPERINGS  OF  LOVE.  315 


CHAPTER  XXXVI. 

WHISPERINGS  OF  LOVE. 

"Ms.  GUY,  a  man  wants  to  see  you,"  said  Hastings, 
as  Guyon  stood  at  the  door,  waiting  for  Miss  Gordon  to 
pass. 

"A  man?    Where  is  he,  Hastings?" 

"In  the  reception-room,  sir.  He's  been  waiting  some 
time,  but  I  couldn't  interrupt  you,  sir." 

And  Guyon,  entering  the  room",  beheld  the  old  contractor 
seated  uncomfortably  on  the  edge  of  a  chair. 

"It's  a  sight  fer  sore  eyes  ter  see  ye,  Guy — Mister  Beau 
mont,  I  mean,  hang  it,  I  can't  git  on  ter  it  at  all,  at  all.'' 

"I'm  more  than  delighted  to  see  you,  Dad.  Call  me 
Guy,  and  don't  bother  about  anything  else.  Here,  Has 
tings,  get  some  of  that  good  whiskey,  and  a  couple  of  my 
long  clays  from  my  room." 

"Ah,  sure  ye're  me  own  b'y — just  the  same  wid  all  yer 
grate  belongings,  Guy  1"  exclaimed  the  old  gentleman,  as  he 
sipped  the  whiskey,  and  pu""^  a  great  whiff  from  his  clay 
pipe. 

"How  is  Mrs.  McCarty,  Dad?  I  intended  to  drop  in 
and  see  you  all;  but  so  much  has  transpired,  and  I  have 
only  now  returned  after  an  absence  of  two  weeks." 

"Have  ye,  now?  Well,  the  Missus  an'  me  does  be 
turribly  lonely,  Guy,  that's  the  Gospel  truth.  Av  coorse. 
we  heard  all  about  the  trouble  here,  an'  Biglin  wus  after 
tellin'  me  as  how  ye'd  succeeded  at  last.  Then,  since  the 


316  A   GENTLEMAN  BORN. 

funeral,  the  Missus  gave  me  no  pace  till  I  cum  up  ter 
see  yees." 

"That  was  very  good  of  her;  and  of  you,  too,  in  com- 
ing." 

"An'  yer  Mother's  well?     God  bless  her!" 

"She  is  in  fairly  good  health,  considering  the  shock  she 
sustained." 

"True  fer  ye.  Yer  niver  seed  me  so  conflumixed  in  yer 
life  as  whin  I  heard  about  that  same  villain,  sure,  it's 
small  loss  he  is,  at  all.  An'  sez  I:  'I'm  not  flyin'  in  the 
face  of  Providince,  God  forbid !  but  ef  the  Lord  had  only 
let  that  man  live  'til  I  got  me  hands  on  'im,  he'd  not  be 
taken  a  whole  bone  in  'is  body  ter  the  grave !' '; 

"Don't  let  us  talk  of  him,  Dad.  He  repented  at  last, 
and  made  reparation  for  his  crime." 

"Faith,  he  did  so — pace  be  ter  'im,  ef  he's  phweie  pace 
is." 

"You  say  that  you  have  seen  Biglin.  Why  does  he  keep 
away  from  me?  I  wish  very  much  to  see  him." 

"Does  ye,  now!  The  poor  lad's  a'most  as  bad  in  the 
dumps  as  ye  wus  yersel',  Guy,  in  those  days.  He  sez  r,s 
ye're  too  swell  now  ter  look  at  'im,  an'  all  because  of  his 
findin'  out  yer  folks  fer  ye." 

"Does  he  say  that?  Ha,  ha!  I  think  I  can  convince 
him  to  the  contrary.  You  will  not  see  him  to-morrow, 
no,  that  will  be  Christmas  day ;  but  the  day  after — as  soon 
as  you  meet  him,  bid  him  come  to  me." 

"I'll  do  that,  Guy,  the  more  be  token  that  he's  a  good 
lad,  an'  deservin'  of  annything  ye  can  do  fer  'im.  An' 
phwat'll  ye  be  doin'  yersel',  I  dunno?  There's  me  bisness. 
fallin'  off,  an'  goin'  ter  the  dogs  since  ye  lift  us.  Not  that 
I  mind  so  much — seein'  I've  a  tidy  bit  o'  money  now,  an' 
the  Missus  is  after  me  ter  retire  altogether." 

"Not  a  bad  idea,  Dad.     I  strongly  advise  it.    You  are 


WHISPERINGS  OF  LOVE.  317 

not  as  young  as  you  used  to  be.     You  have  worked  hard 
all  your  life — lay  back  on  your  oars,  and  enjoy  yourself." 

"Maybe  I  will ;  but  phwat'll  I  be  doin'  at  home  all  the 
time,  wid  the  Missus  plaguin'  me  life  out  ter  git  inter 
sassiety  ?" 

"She  still  harps  on  the  old  subject?"  Guyon  said,  not 
a  little  amused  as  he  remembered  how  often  it  had  been 
broached  in  former  days. 

"Faith,  she  does  that,  bad  cess  ter  it  1" 

"Well,  who  knows  but  that  her  wish  may  be  fulfilled. 
My  Mother  has  spoken  in  the  warmest  terms  of  you  both, 
and  will  doubtless,  when  the  occasion  presents  itself,  make 
an  effort  to  gratify  Mrs.  McCarty's  desire." 

"An'  I'll  not  be  tellin'  her  of  that  now,  er  she'd  go 
buildin'  castles  in  the  air  of  phwat  she'd  do,  and  phwat 
she'd  say,  whin  she  makes  her  debut, — that's  phwat  ye 
calls  it,  ain't  it,  now?" 

"I  believe  so,"  Guyon  replied,  smiling  to  himself,  as 
he  thought  of  the  ancient  "Missus"  posing  as  a  young  and 
blushing  debutante.  "There  is  one  subject  on  my  mind, 
Dad,  in  which  I  think  you  can  assist  me.  Don't  spare  the 
whiskey  or  tobacco,  sir,  make  yourself  perfectly  at  home." 

"That's  phwat  I'm  tryin'  ter  do.  Only  I  can't  jest  git 
the  hang  of  these  chairs,"  replied  the  old  contractor. 
"Sure,  I'll  do  annything  in  the  world  I  kin  fer  ye,  Guy, 
ef  it's  only  ter  kape  up  the  auld  acquaintance  wid  ye." 

"Not  so  bad  as  that,  Dad.  You  remember  my  telling 
of  the  girl  whom  Biglin  and  I  rescued  when  we  were  little 
chaps.  Well,  I  wish  to  make  a  little  settlement  upon  her. 
out  of  my  fortune,  to  raise  her  and  her  Mother  above  the 
possibility  of  want." 

"Phew !  an'  phwy  wud  ye  do  that,  Guy  ?" 

"Because  of  a  wrong  done  her  Mother — you  can  keep 
&  secret — Mr.  Barrington  was  the  girl's  Father,  and  to 


318  A  GENTLEMAN  BORN. 

avoid  the  scandal  coining  to  my  Mother's  ears,  I  will  place 
a  certain  sum  to  your  credit.  You  shall  see  these  people, 
and  conjure  up  the  most  plausible  story  you  can  think  of, 
— some  distant  relation  of  the  Mother  has  died  and  left 
it  to  them — anything  of  the  kind — you  understand; 
then  urge  upon  them  the  advisability  of  leaving  the  country, 
traveling  for  their  health,  you  know." 

"Faith,  it's  a  good  'ale  yer  axin'  o'  me,  Guy ;  but  I'll  do 
it  fer  yer  sake." 

"I  would  not  have  you  inconvenience  yourself,  Dad." 

"It's  only  this,  Guy.  Ye  see,  the  Missus  might  git  a 
hold  o'  me  goin'  ter  visit  these  people,  an'  ef  she  oncet  got 
inter  her  head  that  they  wasn't  jest  right,  I  might  es  well 
give  up  livin'  entirely." 

"Surely  there  is  no  danger  of  that,  Dad.  Kemember, 
both  M  ther  and  daughter  are  respectable  people  now, 
and  if  the  Missus  should  hear  of  your  visit,  well — just 
mention  my  name  to  her;  that  will  smooth  over  all 
difficulties." 

"So  it  will,  Guy,  an'  I'll  do  that  same  fer  ye.  Now. 
I  must  be  lavin',  fer  it's  late,  I  know;  an'  I  almost  forgot 
phwat  I  come  fer.  Well,  ye  know  it's  Christmas  Ave;  an* 
I  thought  ye  wouldn't  mind  me  bringin'  ye  a  little  bit  o'  a 
prisint,  seein'  ye  allus  had  un  this  blissid  time  since  ye 
come  ter  us,"  and  the  old  gentleman  turned  away  to  hide 
the  tear  which  came  unbidden  to  his  eyes. 

"This  is  kind  of  you,  Dad.  Just  like  your  good  old  self. 
If  it  wasn't  that  Mother  is  so  lonely  now,  and  that  I've 
only  just  come  back,  I'd  go  and  eat  Christmas  dinner  with 
you." 

"No,  it  wouldn't  do.  Ye  belongs  here  now.  Only — only 
— I  can't  somehow  git  it  out  o'  me  hed  that  ye're  me  own 
b'y  yit.  God  bless  ye,  Guy  dear,  an'  may  ye  see  manny 
happy  years!" 


WHISPERINGS  Of  LOVE.  310 

Then,  before  Guyon  could  reply,  the  old  contractor 
hurried  out  into  the  hall,  snatched  up  his  great  coat  and 
hat,  and  was  gone. 

"Dear,  generous-hearted  old  Dad,"  said  Guyon,  as  he 
stood  at  the  door,  where  Mr.  McCarty  had  disappeared, 
"how  much  better  the  world,  aye,  and  our  so-called  cultured 
society  would  be,  were  it  regenerated  in  men  of  his  stamp ! 
What  a  difference  between  him  and  Barrington,  for  in 
stance!  But  comparisons  are  odious.  I  must  do  some 
thing  for  these  people.  They  shall  have  a  fling  at  social 
life  among  us.  Poor  old  Dad,  I'm  afraid  he'll  get 
strangely  mixed  up  with  it  all." 

Guyon  here  remembered  that  he  had  not  paid  his  re 
spects  to  his  Mother  since  his  return.  She  was  doubtless 
awaiting  him.  Going  up  softly  to  her  boudoir,  he  found 
her  there.  The  meeting  between  mother  and  son  was 
truly  pathetic.  It  was  as  though  he  had  been  away  for 
ages,  so  fondly  did  Muriel  embrace  him.  And,  as  they 
sat  for  a  few  moments  together,  she  questioned  him  about 
his  outing — had  he  enjoyed  it?  or  had  he  longed  to  be 
at  home  with  her? 

"Of  course  it  was  not  like  an  ordinary  pleasure  trip, 
Mother,"  he  said,  "when  one  is  compelled  to  absent  him 
self  on  a  pretence  of  seeking  enjoyment,  especially  when 
the  affairs  at  home  were  such  as  you  know  them,  it  is  more 
of  a  penance  than  anything  else." 

"You  have  seen  Mabel  to-night,  have  you  not?" 

"Yes,  I  have  endeavored  to  place  myself  before  her  in 
a  truer  light." 

"And  you  succeeded !  I  knew  you  would,  Guyon." 

"I'm  not  so  sure,  Mother.  Yes,  I  believe  she  trusts 
me  now ;  and  I  have  disabused  her  mind  of  those  ill-boding 
thoughts  against  me.  Still,  I  doubt  if  she  loves  me  after 
all." 


320  A  GENTLEMAN  BORN. 

"If  she  respects  you,  my  son,  hope  for  better  things. 
Eespect  in  a  woman's  heart  is  but  a  step  to  love." 

"Is  it  so,  Mother?  You  do  not  know  how  greatly  you 
encourage  me.  I  shall  retire  now  to  dream,  and  see  visions 
of  halcyon  days  yet  in  store  for  me." 

"Do  so,  my  boy !  and  may  Heaven  grant  that  your  dreams 
be  realized." 

As  Guyon  was  passing  from  his  Mother's  boudoir  to  his 
own  chamber,  in  the  uncertain  light  he  saw  a  white; 
shadowy  figure  flit  from  his  sister's  room  to  that  of  Miss 
Gordon.  He  did  not  give  himself  the  trouble  to  investigate 
the  thing,  believing  that  it  might  only  be  a  shadow.  But,  if 
he  had  paused,  he  would  have  found  that  it  was  Esther's 
real  self,  arrayed  in  her  light  dressing  gown,  bent  upon 
paying  a  flying  visit  to  her  friend  at  this  late  hour. 

"Don't  be  frightened,  May  dear.  I  really  couldn't  sleep 
till  I  told  you.  I  wanted  to,  before  I  left  you  to-night, 
but  it  was  so  strange  and  funny,  I  just  couldn't." 

"What  is  it,  Pet  ?  My,  you  are  actually  shivering  with 
the  cold !  Here,  put  my  cloak  about  you,  and  sit  down  by 
the  fire.  Pshaw !  I  believe  there  is  none." 

"I'll  snuggle  up  close  to  you,  if  you  don't  mind,"  said 
Esther,  and  suiting  the  action  to  the  word,  she  almost 
suffocated  Mabel  there  and  then. 

"What  is  this  great  piece  of  news,  child,  that  has  caused 
you  to  tumble  out  at  so  unseemly  an  hour?"  Mabel  asked, 
pretending  to  be  properly  ignorant. 

"Oh,  I  can't  tell  you  even  now !  Anyway,  you  wouldn't 
know  how  I  feel,  would  you?" 

"What  a  strange  question!  Esther,  are  you  really 
awake  ?  or  is  this  a  bit  of  somnambulism  ?" 

"Not  a  bit  of  it!  I'm  pretty  wide-awake,  I  can  tell 
you.  Couldn't  sleep  if  I  tried.  Oh,  May !"  she  exclaimed, 
in  a  burst  of  confidence,  "Harold  asked  me  to  be  his  wife." 


WHISPERINGS  OF  LOVE.  321 

"For  shame!  he  did,  did  he?"  Mabel  cried,  pretending 
to  be  mighty  wroth.  "So  soon  after  all  that  has  hap 
pened,  and  before  you  have  yet  appeared  in  society*  I 
call  it  scandalous !" 

"Now,  May,  you  just  hush !  You  needn't  go  on  in  that 
strain.  Hal  couldn't  help  it,  indeed  he  couldn't.  It  all 
came  because  of  Guyon  coming  home,  and  my  thinking 
so  much  of  him;  and  then  Hal,  when  he  was  away,  made 
up  his  mind  that  he  wouldn't  wait  any  longer." 

"Of  course  you  told  him  that  he  must  wait  some  time  for 
his  answer." 

"Indeed,  I  didn't.  Oh,  May !  how  could  I  ?  It  all  came 
to  me  then,  as  he  spoke,  that  I  have  loved  him  right  along 
for  so  many  years  that  I  can't  count  them.  I  know  I'm 
awfully  foolish,  and  young,  and  all  that;  and  Mama  will 
stop  it  all,  perhaps,  but  I'm  so  happy — do  you  mind. 
May?" 

"No,  darling !  I'm  delighted  for  your  sake,"  replied  her 
friend,  with  just  a  little  choking  sensation  in  her  throat; 
"only  you  must  keep  it  quiet,  you  and  Harold,  and  be 
guided  by  what  your  Mother  shall  advise." 

"Oh,  that  will  be  easy;  now  that  we  are  sure  of  each 
other,  we  can  wait  until  doomsday;  and,  May,  I  wish  you 
could  be  as  happy  as  I  am,"  said  the  silly  little  Miss, 
reaching  up  to  kiss  her  chum,  and  surprised  to  find  hot 
tears  on  her  cheek.  "Why,  are  you  crying,  dear?" 

"Am  I  crying?  Perhaps  it's  from  joy,  because  of  your 
happiness.  Now  run  off  to  bed,  and  please  don't  disturb 
everyone  with  your  ghost-walking." 

"I'm  going,  May,"  Esther  replied  a  little  sadly,  "but 
won't  you  say  that  you  are  pleased  with  me  ?" 

"More  than  pleased,  Pet.  Kiss  me ! — now  I  am  better. 
Go,  before  you  catch  cold." 

"Dear  little  one!  it  has  come  to  your  life,"  thought 


323  A  GENTLEMAN  BORN. 

Mabel,  as  she  lay  for  hours  after  Esther  had  gone,  revolv 
ing  the  incident  in  her  mind.  "How  radiant  she  was  in 
her  new-found  bliss!  And  I — why  should  not  I  also  be 
happy?  Has  he  not  cleared  away  those  stains  from  his 
character?  He  is  worthy  of  my  love. — My  love — do'  I 
love  him  ?  Whisper  soft,  kind  angels  that  guard  him ! 
Oh,  what  am  I  saying?  Whither  are  my  thoughts  drift 
ing  me?  He  must  not  suspect  nor  have  an  idea  of  my 

sentiments  until — well " 

And  as  the  last  faint  glimmering  of  her  train  of  musing 
was  vanishing  into  the  purest  and  most  joyous  of  dreams, 
there  came  to  her,  or  she  fancied  there  came,  the  softest 
whisper — "I  love  you,  my  love,  my  own !" 


aUTON'8  SWEETHEART.  323 


CHAPTER  XXXVII. 


SWEETHEART. 

THE  Christmas  holidays  have  come  and  gone  at  the 
Beaumont  mansion.  Whilst  the  social  world  about  them 
was  agog  with  unusual  festivity,  with  box-parties,  fancy-dress 
balls,  afternoon-teas,  and  receptions  galore,  this  one  little 
desert  spot  in  the  brilliant  sphere  of  pleasure  was  still 
shrouded  in  its  mourning  garb. 

Of  course  it  had  been  a  nine  days'  wonder  and  gossip 
among  the  elite  set,  that  Guyon  McCarty,  the  elegant 
young  gentleman  of  such  polished  manners,  whom  every 
one  recalled  now,  and  congratulated  himself  or  herself 
upon  having  met,  should  have  turned  out  in  the  end  to  be 
Mrs.  Barrington's  own  son. 

"Anyone  could  have  seen  it  with  half  an  eye,"  it  was 
said,  "that  he  was  a  born  gentleman."  And  even  those 
who  had  been  most  inclined  to  snub  him  in  former  times, 
could  scarcely  contain  their  resentment  over  Perry  Bar 
rington's  death,  and  the  mourning  period  following,  since 
it  excluded  them  from  the  heavenly  atmosphere  in  which 
the  youthful  heir  of  Beaumont  lived  and  breathed.  Nor 
were  there  wanting  those,  a  few  scheming  Mamas,  and 
ambitious  demoiselles,  who  intimated  that  the  Southern 
Miss  who  had  jilted  Lord  Richleigh  after  she  had  ruined 
all  their  chances,  was  now  making  the  best  of  her  oppor 
tunity  in  striving  to  win  Mr.  Beaumont  for  herself. 

Poor  Mabel,  if  they  only  knew  how  far  such  a  sentiment 
was  from  your  heart  !  As  the  days  and  weeks  of  the 


324  A  GENTLEMAN  BORN. 

winter  months  were  passing,  she  was  thrown  continually 
in  his  presence,  learning  more  and  more  of  his  true,  noble 
character,  now  fully  developing  in  the  atmosphere  of  con 
tentment  and  peace.  She  noted  also  his  remarkable  tender 
ness  for  his  Mother,  which  had  in  it  all  the  strength  of 
manly  earnestness,  combined  with  a  certain  childlike  trust 
which  was  truly  extraordinary.  Still,  with  all,  as  love's 
whisperings  grew  stronger,  Guyon's  position  towards  her 
was  that  of  a  devoted  friend — nothing  more. 

"Is  he  repaying  me  for  my  past  coldness  to  him?"  she 
sometimes  asked  herself,  after  a  conversation  together  in 
the  long  winter  evening,  when  the  theme  would  be  some 
reminiscence  of  his  college  days,  or,  at  her  request,  an  epi 
sode  of  his  early  career ;  and  when  no  word  of  love  escaped 
his  lips.  "Or  is  it  that  he  has  ceased  to  care  for  me  as  he 
did,  now  that  his  heart  is  centred  in  his  Mother's  love?" 

Frequently  she  resolved  to  return  to  her  Southern  home ; 
but  the  fear  lest  her  motive  might  be  misinterpreted,  re 
strained  her.  Then,  too,  there  was  Esther's  all-absorbing 
happiness  to  cause  her  many  a  heartache,  witnessing  the 
joy,  so  pure  and  unalloyed,  which  she  seemed  destined 
never  to  share. 

But  the  paths  in  Esther's  paradise  were  not  all  strewn 
with  roses  at  first.  There  was  a  little  scene  in  her  Mother's 
boudoir  when  the  denouement  was  made ;  for  it  seemed  to 
Muriel  that  her  little  daughter  was  more  than  frivolous 
in  permitting  Harold  to  whisper  his  love  so  soon  after  her 
Father's  death.  It  was  only  Guyon's  pleading,  added  to 
Mabel's  gentle  persuasion,  that  won  the  kind  Mother's 
consent  to  the  engagement,  provided  that  it  remain  a 
profound  secret  for  a  year,  at  least. 

During  all  this  time,  Guyon's  mind  was  ill  at  ease,  not 
withstanding  Harold's  grave  advice  and  jesting  railleries, 
and  his  Mother's  more  sober  counsel,  that  he  put  an  end 


GUYON' 8  SWEETHEART.  325 

to  all  the  unrest  and  disquietude  by  asking  Miss  Gordon 
to  be  his  wife. 

"You  are  the  most  unreasonable  fellow  that  ever  was 
created,"  Harold  exclaimed  one  evening  when  Guyon  had 
come  into  his  sanctum,  where  he  was  deep  in  the  mysteries 
of  Blackstone,  with  the  never  absent  pipe  in  his  mouth, 
and  the  ponderous  tomes  at  his  side.  "You  have  come  to 
me  again  for  consolation,  I  suppose.  Well,  take  a  seat 
anywhere  you  can  find  one ;  only  don't  disturb  my  precious 
books.  There's  a  pipe  somewhere,  or  a  cigarette,  if  you 
prefer  it." 

"Thank  you,  I  don't  care  about  smoking.  I  didn't  have 
anything  particular  to  do,  hence  my  visit." 

"Is  that  all?  Well,  presumably  I  must  be  thankful 
that  you  deign  to  shed  your  light  upon  my  inhospitable 
den.  Anything  new?  How's  Esther?" 

"As  though  you  didn't  know  when  you  saw  her  last 
evening !  You  lovers  are  rather  tiresome,  to  say  the  least," 
and  Guyon  stretched  his  arms  with  a  suspicion  of  weari 
ness. 

"Eeally,  I  like  that !  to  your  own  brother !  Say,  Guy,  if 
1  were  you,  I'd  quit  that  dog-in-the-manger  style.  Why 
don't  you  hit  it  up  with  Mabel,  and  have  done  with  it? 
Do  you  think  it  might  be  less  interesting,  eh?" 

"By  no  means,  if  I  thought  she  would  favor  my  suit; 
but " 

"But !  there  you  go  again,  'Faint  heart,'  the  old  adage 
has  it,  'never  won  ladye  faire';  and  if  there  is  any  truth 
in  the  saying,  your  own  is  made  of  the  weakest  possible 
material;  Sometimes  I  wonder  why  you  are  not  ill  from 
the  effects  of  your  weak  heart." 

"Lay  it  on  as  hard  as  you  wish,  Hal,  I  can  stand  it. 
I  know  better  than  you,  and  from  experience,  how  difficult 
it  is  to  win  Miss  Gordon's  love.  Has  she  not  had  suitors 


326  -4  GENTLEMAN  BORN. 

by  the  score?  Even  an  English  Lord  she  rejected — why 
then  should  there  be  hope  for  me  ?" 

"And  in  the  meantime,  you  simply  hang  around,  play 
the  agreeable,  the  interested  friend,  if  you  will,  and,  be 
fore  you  are  aware  of  it,  someone  will  turn  up — one  of 
her  Southern  admirers,  perhaps — and  there  go  all  your 
chances  of  happiness,  and  Mabel  Gordon  along  with 
them." 

"That's  among  the  possibles,"  Guyon  replied,  gloomily. 

"See  here,  old  chap,  why  don't  you  take  a  sensible, 
clear-headed  view  of  the  situation,  for  once  and  all.  Wit 
ness  my  case.  Did  I  delay  when  I  was  convinced  that  the 
moment  had  arrived  when  I  should  ask  Esther  to  be  my 
wife?  Did  I  permit  any  consideration,  or  any  circum 
stance  to  intervene?  No,  by  Jove!  I  took  the  matter 
into  my  own  hands,  without  asking,  'by  your  leave'  of  any 
one."  * 

"But  you  were  certain  of  Esther's  answer — you  had 
known  her  so  long." 

"And  witnessed  her  many  changing  moods.  Not  that  I 
entertained  the  idea  for  a  moment  that  she  would  love 
another,  even  though  she  should  meet  thousands  after  she 
entered  society.  Now,  as  it  is,  she  will  appear  as  my 
fiancee.  How  the  fellows  will  stare  and  talk !"  and  Har 
old  chuckled  to  himself  at  the  thought  of  the  victory  he 
had  scored  so  far  in  advance. 

"I  suppose  your  heroism  is  to  be  a  subject  of  congratula 
tion,"  Guyon  muttered. 

"See  here,  Guy !"  Hal  exclaimed,  rising  from  his  careless 
position  on  his  couch,  as  a  sudden  thought  came  to  his 
mind,  "forgive  me,  if  I  say  this,  but  it  really  seems  to  be 
the  only  solution  of  your  persistent  inaction.  You 
don't  love  another  girl,  do  you?" 

"How  can  you  say  that,  Hal  ?     No,  I  am  not  offended. 


GUYON>8  SWEETHEART.  327 

rather  amused  if  anything;  and  puzzled  to  conjecture  who 
the  young  lady  may  be." 

"Not  Miss  Dimples!" 

"After  the  letter  I  wrote  at  your  suggestion !     Oh,  no." 

"But  you  have  not  lost  sight  of  her,"  Harold  persisted. 

"No,  that  is,  indirectly  I  have  not.  I  have  placed  a 
certain  sum  at  Mr.  McCarty's  disposal,  which  he  will  use 
for  their  benefit  while  they  live." 

"You  have  done  this?  And  yet  you  are  not  interested 
in  this  person — it  seems  incredible !" 

"Wait  a  moment,  Hal,  before  you  judge  me.  Eemember 
that  the  poor  child  had  a  claim  upon  Barrington,  as  had 
also  her  Mother.  I  could  not  live  in  affluence  and  see 
them  want." 

"Forgive  me,  Guy;  only  I'm  afraid  your  heart  was  a 
trifle  stronger  than  your  mind  there.  They  won't  ap 
preciate  the  gift." 

"I  don't  intend  that  they  shall  know  of  the  giver. 
That  part  has  been  also  attended  to." 

"Have  you  heard  of  Dimples  lately?"  was  Harold's 
next  query. 

"Yes,  the  good  old  contractor — no,  I  must  not  call  him 
by  that  name  now,  for  he  has  retired  from  business — Mr. 
McCarty,  I  mean,  informed  me  the  other  day  that  he  had 
prevailed  upon  them  to  take  an  extended  trip  to  Europe. 
The  Mother  has  some  distant  relatives  living  in  a  London 
suburb,  and  they  are  to  settle  down  in  a  quiet  way  there." 

"That  eliminates  Dimples  from  your  life,  doesn't  it?" 
said  Harold,  with  a  little  sigh  of  relief.  "What  are  you 
going  to  do  with  yourself  now?" 

"Nothing  at  present.  I  shall  make  no  plans  until 
next  autumn.  There  is  so  much  to  settle  now;  every 
thing  was  in  such  a  confused  state  after  Barrington's  death, 
you  know." 


328  -4  GENTLEMAN  BORN. 

"I  understand.  You  will  wait  until  you  are  legally 
in  possession  of  your  rights,  before  you  determine  upon 
your  future  career,  either  in  politics  or  one  of  the  higher 
professions." 

"Exactly." 

"And  for  the  present,  pardon  me  if  I  revert  to  the  old 
theme,  Guy,  take  my  advice.  You  have  found  by  experi 
ence  that  it  carries  a  certain  weight  at  times, — strike  at 
once,  if  you  love  Miss  Gordon.  Don't  dally  with  so  sacred 
a  passion.  No  good  can  come  of  it." 

"Perhaps  you're  right,  Hal.  I  will  make  no  promises 
to-night,  but  shall  be  guided  by  circumstances." 

"Good  bye,  then,  since  you  must  leave  me,  old  fellow, 
drop  in  again  when  you  are  in  the  moody  way." 

Guyon  left  his  friend's  abode  with  no  more  definite  de 
termination  than  when  he  had  entered  it.  He  dis 
missed  his  coach,  purposing  to  stroll  home,  enjoying  the 
mild  atmosphere  of  the  evening  in  early  spring,  and  give 
full  play  to  his  imaginative  fancies.  The  thoroughfares 
were  not  as  yet  thronged  with  after-theatre  parties;  in 
fact,  it  was  just  that  time  of  night,  when  the  pulse  of  the 
great  city  seems  to  beat  feebly;  a  general  hush  was  upon 
everything,  prior  to  the  Aurora  of  the  most  dashing  ex 
citement.  Guyon  had  proceeded  some  little  distance  down 
Fifth  Avenue,  when  he  heard  his  name  called.  Without 
pausing  or  quickening  his  pace,  he  continued  his  walk, 
paying  no  attention  to  the  individual  whose  voice  seemed 
familiar. 

"Are  you  in  a  hurry,  Mr.  Beaumont  ?"  and  Barclay  laid 
his  hand  upon  his  shoulder. 

Guyon  shook  off  the  intruder,  and  walked  on,  merely 
brushing  the  place  on  his  coat  where  the  -touch  had  ap 
parently  left  a  moral  stain. 

"I  say,  are  you  in  a  hurry  ?"  Barclay  persisted.    "I  heard 


GUYON*  8  SWEETHEART.  329 

that  you  wanted  to  fueet  me  some  time  ago.  I  am  here 
now,  what  have  you  to  say  to  me  ?" 

"Nothing!     I  do  not  desire  your  company/' 

"Come,  let  us  be  friends,  Beaumont.  I  want  to  con 
gratulate  you  upon " 

"Leave  me,  I  say!"  cried  Guyon,  for  the  sight  of  this 
man,  and  the  memory  of  what  he  had  done,  stung  him  in 
tensely.  "Leave  me  before  I  lay  my  hands  on  your 
wretched  carcass.  If  I  had  a  whip — I  would  punish  you 
as  I  had  intended." 

"No  doubt  your  early  education  has  trained  you  for  a 
street  brawler,"  said  Barclay  with  a  sneer. 

"I  have  not  wished  your  society,  I  have  asked  you  to 
leave  me.  Now  I  repeat  the  demand.  You  are  not  a 
gentleman.  You  are  a  disgrace  to  society  and  the  com 
munity  at  large.  You  are  a " 

"Maybe  I'm  not  a.  goody  good  sort  of  a  fellow,  but  I 
believe  you  have  kept  pace  with  me  before." 

"You  lie !"  Guyon  cried,  striking  Barclay  a  telling  blow 
between  the  eyes,  which  stunned  him  for  the  moment.  He 
was  on  guard  again,  however,  and  being  something  of 
an  athlete,  the  tussle  promised  to  be  a  lively  one,  much 
as  Guyon  disliked  the  publicity  of  the  affair,  had  not  a 
third  party  appeared  on  the  scene,  in  the  guise  of  a  man 
belonging  to  the  poorer  class,  judging  by  his  shabby  clothes 
and  careless  appearance. 

"Doan  youse  queer  yer  ban's  wid  'im,  Mr.  Guy ;  leave  'im 
ter  me,  an'  watch  me  trump  'im !" — It  was  Biglin. 

And  before  Guyon  could  utter  a  remonstrance,  the 
burly  fellow  had  thrown  Barclay,  and  was  pounding  him 
unmercifully,  clinching  every  "trump"  with  a  choice  epi 
thet  from  his  own  peculiar  dialect. 

"That  will  do,  Biglin!  Come,  he  will  have  the  police 
on  you  in  a  moment,"  Guyon  said.  And,  with  a  parting 


330  &  GENTLEMAN  BOHN. 

kick  for  good  luck,  Biglin  left  the  prostrate  form  of  the 
unfortunate  Barclay,  and  with  some  reluctance,  was  per 
suaded  to  continue  his  perambulation  with  Guyon. 

"How  did  you  happen  to  be  here  ?"  he  asked. 

"Doan  know ;  jes'  hangs  roun' !  Nothin'  ter  do  since  de 
boss  trew  up  de  job,  so  I  chases  meseP  up  ter  dese  diggin's 
tinkin'  es  I  might  see  youse." 

"Looking  out  for  a  scrap  as  usual,  I  suppose." 

"Cudn't  shut  me  peepers  when  I  seed  dat  bloke  Barclay 
a  folloyin'  youse,  an'  cotches  on  ter  de  string  yer  gies 
'im." 

"Well,  you've  given  him  a  good  thrashing,  and  it  will 
do  him  a  world  of  good,  I  think." 

"I  wouldn't  a  cum  in  de  game,  Mr.  Guy,  ef  youse  had 
a  club  ter  lay  it  on  wid,  but  I  cudn't  see  youse  puttin' 
yer  ban's  on  dat  feller — naw!" 

"You  aren't  doing  anything,  you  say,  Biglin.  Why 
didn't  you  come  to  my  residence  ?  Have  you  forgotten  the 
old  times?" 

"Naw!"  Biglin  replied,  looking  down  sheepishly,  "but 
youse  bees  a  howlin'  swell,  an'  mees  a  poor  mug,  see  ?  dat's 
de  dif." 

"Do  you  think  that  I  could  forget  you,  Biglin,  and  what 
you  have  done  for  me?  No,  we  are  brothers  yet,  you  and 
I,  my  position  shall  make  no  difference  between  us.  You 
shall  come  to  my  home,  and " 

"Doan  youse  gie  me  dat  string,  Guy.  Youse  knows 
dat's  ded  wrong.  Wot  fell  kin  a  bloke  like  mesel'  do  in 
sassiety?  Naw,  ye  doan." 

"What  can  I  do  for  you,  then  ?" 

"Jes'  dis.  Yer  wants  me  wid  youse,  ded  honest?  An' 
I  wants  ter  be  roun'  so  dose  mugs  like  Barclay  can't  git 
up  no  game  on  youse  agin.  Wot  fell  d'ye  say  ef  I  bees 
yer  walley?  Dat's  me  string,  Guy." 


GUYON'S  SWEETHEART.  331 

"Just  the  thing,  Biglin.  Come  to  me  to-morrow,  and 
1  will  see  that  Hastings,  our  old  butler,  gets  you  up  in 
proper  shape." 

"Tank  yer,  Mr.  Guy,"  and  Biglin,  chuckling  over  his 
good  fortune,  and  at  the  prospect  of  now  being  permanently 
established  in  Guyon's  household,  to  watch  over  his  in 
terests  and  his  wardrobe  alike,  scurried  off,  and  was  soon 
lost  in  the  distance. 

Guyon  was  more  than  pleased  at  the  turn  events  had 
taken  so  far  that  night.  What  he  would  have  given  to 
have  thrashed  Barclay !  had  it  out  with  for  good  and  all ; 
but  the  fellow's  pride  must  have  received  as  great  a  down 
fall  as  his  physical  nature,  under  the  fists  of  a  common 
Bowery  tough.  Then,  too,  he  had  secured  Biglin  as  his 
valet,  given  him  the  position  which  seemed  to  the  honest 
fellow  to  be  the  one  highest  ambition  of  his  life. 

"If  I  ever  settle  in  life,"  he  thought,  "Biglin  shall  have 
the  office  of  butler  in  my  household.  I  wonder  what  Mabel 
will  think  of  him,  as  though  she  were  already  my 
fiancee!  Phew!  Castles,  air  castles,  nothing  more." 

He  entered  the  house  quietly,  bidding  Hastings  say  noth 
ing  of  his  arrival,  and  intending  to  steal  up  to  his  room. 
The  door  of  the  drawing-room  was  ajar,  and  there  came  to 
his  ear  the  refrain  of  an  old  German  love  song.  The  voice 
was  a  rich  soprano,  but  now,  so  modulated,  unaccompanied 
by  an  instrument,  that,  as  he  paused  outside,  he  could 
scarcely  detect  the  words.  "It  is  she,"  he  murmured. 
"If  she  were  alone,  I  might  ask  her  to  sing  the  song  to 
me,  and,  if  she  did,  might  it  not  be  an  omen? — I'll  make 
the  attempt.  Perhaps,  after  all,  Hal  is  right,  I  am  too 
faint-hearted." 

Softly  he  opened  the  door,  and  paused  again  on  the 
threshold.  She  was  sitting  there  in  the  dim  light,  alone. 
Two  or  three  incandescents  in  a  further  part  of  the  room. 


332  A  GENTLEMAN  BORN. 

gave  a  sort  of  artificial  twilight  to  the  scene.  A  costume 
of  soft  creamy  whiteness  enhanced  the  beauty  of  her 
form,  as.  she  sat  in  a  careless  attitude,  her  countenance 
in  the  shadow,  her  eyes  large  and  dreamy. 

"Now,  I  would  give  my  life  to  know  the  trend  of  her 
thoughts,"  Guyon  said  to  himself,  as  he  stepped  lightly  into 
the  room,  and  confronted  his  loved  one  before  she  realized 
his  presence.  Then  she  started,  her  complexion  changed  to 
ashy  white,  and  again  to  the  deepest  crimson  when  he 
spoke. 

"Pardon  me,  Miss  Gordon,  for  intruding  upon  your 
happy  reverie.  Have  I  come  too  suddenly?  You  appear 
disturbed." 

"It  was  sudden;  I  was  thinking,  and  it  seemed  so  un 
real  to  see  you  standing  there." 

"I  heard  your  voice,  singing  that  pretty  German  song. 
I  could  not  resist  the  temptation  to  enter  and  ask  you  to 
repeat  it — for  me." 

"It  is  a  silly  little  thing,  and  so  old.  You  have  heard 
ii  before." 

"Yes,  I  have.  I  do  not  recall  just  when  or  where;  it 
must  have  been  during  my  college  days." 

"One  cannot  sing  well  without  an  accompaniment,  and 
your  Mother  does  not  wish  the  piano  to  be  opened." 

"I  will  accompany  you  on  the  guitar — no  one  will  hear 
its  low  cadence." 

"Do  you  really  wish  me  to  sing  it?"  she  asked. 

"I  do  not  think  that  I  shall  rest  to-night  unless  I  hear 
it." 

"Bring  over  the  guitar." 

"And  may  I  sit  here  at  your  feet  ?"  he  asked. 

Then,  when  he  had  touched  a  few  chords,  she  sang 
the  melody: 


GUYON'S  SWEETHEART.  333 

"Glaub*  nicht  ich   konnt'   dich   vergessen, 

Vertrau'   der   Liebe   Macht, 
Will  tief  in  das  Herz  dich  pressen, 

Und  tragen  durch  Grabesnacht, 
Zu  leuchtendem  Sternengefunkel, 

Wo    Liebe    vergehet    nicht, 
Trotz  Tod  und  schaurigem  Dunkel,  ja  Dunkel, 

Dich  zu  des  Himraels  Licht." 


With  the  last  quivering  note  dying  away,  his  hand  still 
touched  the  guitar,  and  his  eyes  were  fixed  upon  hers. 

"Are  you  satisfied?"  she  asked,  smiling.  "Is  it  all  that 
you  wished  for?" 

"All,  and  more  than  I  could  pray  for,  if  your  heart 
but  re-echoes  the  words,  Mabel." 

"What  are  you  saying?"  she  asked  nervously;  but  he 
grasped  her  hand,  throwing  the  instrument  on  the  floor, 
and,  rising,  stood  now  at  her  side. 

"Mabel,  I  have  tried  to  avoid  this  moment,  Heaven 
knows  for  how  long,  fearing  lest  you  should  not  return 
my  love.  I  can  withstand  it  no  longer.  I  must  have 
your  answer  now.  It  seemed  to  me  when  you  sang,  that 
your  heart  spoke  to  mine,  awakening  hopes  which  have 
lived  before  only  to  perish.  I  love  you,  I  have  loved  you 
long  and  earnestly!  Speak  to  me,  dearest  one,  can  you 
return  my  love?" 

There  was  no  answer;  but  she  made  no  effort  to  with 
draw  her  hand,  which  still  lay  in  his.  Her  lips  were  parted 
with  a  radiant  smile,  and  her  eyes  no  longer  avoiding 
his,  beamed  with  the  fulness  of  joy,  which  should  have 
told  him  more  than  words  could  imply. 

"Many  things  have  transpired  since  I  first  met  you  at 
the  Newport  ball,"  he  continued.  "I  loved  you  then, 
but  my  position  was  such  that  I  dared  not  whisper  the 
words.  It  is  the  same  love  I  offer  now.  No  other  has 
come  into  my  heart.  Believe  me,  dearest  one,  it  was  for 


334  A  GENTLEMAN  BORN. 

you  and  only  you  that  I  labored  in  quest  of  my  parentage. 
Now  that  the  obstacles  are  all  removed,  can  you  care  for 
me  just  a  little?  If  so,  then  indeed  shall  I  be  well  re 
paid." 

"You  have  it  all,  all  my  love,  Guyon,"  she  whispered. 

"My  own,  my  precious  one !"  he  exclaimed,  as  he  kissed 
with  rapturous  emotion  those  pure  lips,  and  held  her  in 
his  close  embrace,  so  near  that  the  joyous  pulsations  of 
her  heart  found  rebounding  throbs  in  his  own. 

The  wondrous  bliss  of  those  first  moments  in  true 
lovers'  lives,  when  to  each  comes  the  knowledge  of  the 
heart's  adoration  reciprocated,  is  something  so  holy,  so 
sacred,  so  peculiarly  individual  in  its  character,  that  even 
the  poet's  liveliest  imagination  cannot  portray  it  with  any 
semblance  to  reality,  unless,  perchance,  he  gives  expression 
to  sentiments  which  at  one  time  or  another  have  been  a 
part  of  his  own  life. 

For  Guyon  and  Mabel,  there  was  something  more  than 
the  commonplace  affection  which  brightens  ordinary 
lovers'  lives.  It  was  with  Mabel,  her  heart's  first  awaken 
ing.  Many  had  sued  for  her  love.  She  had  invariably 
treated  them  in  a  manner  which  had  won  for  her  the 
sobriquet  of  coquette  and  flirt,  among  a  certain  class; 
but  it  had  been  no  fault  of  hers  that  she  possessed  bound 
less  attractions,  manners  so  pleasing  and  fascinating  as  to 
cause  the  throng  of  love-sick  youths  to  imagine  that  they 
had  only  to  lay  their  hearts  and  fortunes  at  her  feet,  and 
she  would  accept  them  off-hand.  "She  is  cold,"  they  said, 
"and  heartless."  Ah,  if  they  could  have  seen  her  to-night, 
resting  in  Guyon's  arms,  her  countenance  lighted  up  with 
more  than  happiness,  her  eyes  looking  into  his,  speaking 
to  his,  and  drinking  from  the  abyss  of  love  which  his  dis 
closed,  would  they  call  her  cold-hearted  ? 

And  Guyon,  what  were  his  sentiments?    Truly,  this  sur- 


QUYON'S  SWEETHEART.  335 

passed  his  most  cherished  anticipations,  this  love  of  Mabel's 
which  had  come  to  him.  After  all  his  waiting,  his  dis 
appointments  and  trials,  there  was  so  great  an  element 
of  intoxicating  bliss  in  this,  that  he  was  fain  to  believe 
that  he  was  once  more  under  the  delusion  of  the  opium, 
revelling  in  the  scenes  of  delight  which  he  had  then  ex 
perienced. 

They  sat  there  long  into  the  night,  speaking  of  the  past 
but  little,  but  looking  forward  to  the  future,  the  horizon 
of  which  was  now  more  glorious  than  the  roseate  aurora 
heralding  the  perfect  day. 

We  cannot  imagine  Mabel  seeking  Esther's  boudoir  that 
night  to  tell  her  secret  happiness.  It  was  something  that 
she  wished  to  have  all  for  herself,  thinking  over  it  in  all 
its  brilliancy  of  color,  conjuring  up  again  and  again  her 
lover's  image,  the  expression  of  his  countenance  when  he 
told  the  story  of  his  love,  his  ardent  wooing,  and  the  like. 
How  pleasant  it  was  now  to  dwell  upon  it  all!  What 
though  sleep  were  banished  ?  These  were  no  dreams  or 
idle  musings;  and  the  whisperings  which  came,  were  but 
the  memories  of  the  real  whisper  he  spoke — "I  love  you, 
my  love,  my  love!" 

So  the  springtime  passed  with  all  the  gaiety  of  Nature's 
bounteous  art,  finding  a  chord  of  sympathy  in  Guyon's 
soul.  Nor  was  Muriel  less  delighted  that  it  had  come 
about,  even  during  the  time  of  her  mourning;  for,  as  the 
days  succeeded  days,  and  the  months  of  dreary  winter  had 
merged  to  laughing  spring,  her  life  became  less  buried  in 
the  ghostly  past,  which  she  dreaded  to  look  back  upon,  and 
more  and  more  open  to  the  sunshine  which  her  boy  was 
bringing  to  her.  Then,  there  was  Esther  to  claim  her 
counsel  and  direction;  for  the  little  Miss  assumed  great 
dignity  and  airs  to  herself  since  she  had  become  Harold's 
fiancee. 


336  ^  GENTLEMAN  BORN. 

The  family  went  to  their  Newport  home  early  in  May. 
Mrs.  Brandon  and  her  husband  went  with  them  to  stop 
at  Beaucliff  for  a  time,  until  some  alterations  in  their 
residence  were  completed;  and,  of  course,  Harold  was  one 
of  the  party.  And  there  was  Biglin,  too,  now  fully  initi 
ated  in  his  new  duties,  with  no  semblance  to  his  old  self 
remaining,  saving  his  mop  of  red  hair,  his  freckled  face, 
and  his  Bowery  slang.  He  proved  to  be  an  excellent 
valet,  anticipating  Guyon's  slightest  wish,  sharing  all 
his  confidences,  a  privilege  born  of  their  ancient  chum 
ship.  When  he  heard  that  his  young  master  and  Miss 
Gordon  were  to  be  married  privately  in  the  autumn,  and 
that  he  was  to  be  taken  with  them  over  "the  pond,"  he  told 
Guyon  that  "he'd  been  tinkin'  o'  gittin'  hitched  ter  dc 
Frenchy  gal  wot  did  a  turn  fer  Miss  Mabel,  'cause,"  he 
said,  "when  wese  all  a  chasm'  oursel's  in  de  forrin  places, 
de  Frenchy  gal,  dat's  me  wife  den,  kin  gie  de  Dago  string, 
an'  I  needn't  open  me  trap." 

"That's  a  capital  idea,  Biglin,"  Guyon  replied,  laugh 
ing,  "only  if  I  were  you,  I'd  be  dead  certain  that  the  young 
person  would  accept  me,  before  I  planned  what  she'd  do 
as  my  wife." 

"Aw,  she's  ded  easy!  watch  me  cotch  on  ter  her,  Mr. 
Guy." 

They  were  sitting  on  the  veranda  at  Beaucliff,  one  night, 
Guyon  and  Mabel,  not  long  after  their  arrival  at  this 
charming  place.  The  night  was  almost  perfect,  perhaps  a 
little  cooler  than  one  would  wish,  but  lovers  do  not 
mind  the  chilly  breeze.  In  the  drawing-room  were  Harold 
and  Esther,  she  playing  a  low  accompaniment  for  a  love 
song  which  he  was  singing  in  a  clear  baritone. 

"Does  this  remind  you  of  anything,  Mabel?"  Guyon, 
asked. 


GUYON'S  SWEETHEART.  337 

"With  a  stretch  of  fancy,  it  might.  You  refer  to  the 
night  of  the  ball,  Guy  dear." 

"Nothing  else,  of  course;  we  have  not  the  gay  music 
nor  the  dancers,  nor  the  extremely  warm  atmosphere. 
But  see!  the  Queen  of  Night  is  just  rising  out  of  the 
ocean !" 

"How  grand !"  whispered  Mabel. 

"And  shortly,  the  darkness  of  night  will  be  dispelled, 
and  all  her  radiance  suffuse  the  face  of  Nature." 

"Just  as  my  love  has  lighted  up  the  gloom,  and  banished 
the  shadows  from  your  life." 

"How  well  you  read  my  thoughts,  darling !  That  was 
my  comparison.  I  have  often  told  you  of  those  darksome 
days  after  I  first  met  you." 

"And  after  you  rescued  me,  Guy,  what  a  great  mis 
take  you  made  in  running  off  as  you  did." 

"When  it  seemed  to  me  that  you  loved  Barclay?" 

"Of  course  that  was  all  wrong.  I  don't  know  how  his 
name  ever  came  to  my  lips.  Let  us  not  talk  of  him.  He 
sought  to  keep  us  apart." 

"But  in  reality,  as  you  have  told  me,  precious,  his  letter 
only  served  to  bring  us  together  in  the  end,  for  it  awakened 
a  sentiment  of  sympathy  almost  akin  to  love  in  your  heart." 

"It  was  really  after  that — I  don't  know  just  when  or 
how  it  came  to  me  that  you  were  the  only  man  I  could 
love." 

"If  I  were  worthy  of  your  love !" 

"You  are  my  one  grand  ideal,"  she  exclaimed. 

"Hush,  May,  don't  say  that!  What  if  I  never  discov 
ered  my  Mother?  If  I  had  been  without  a  name,  or  had 
retained  that  of  the  old  Irish  contractor,  would  it  have 
been  the  same?" 

"That  would  have  depended  upon  yourself,  Guy,"  she 
faltered,  a  little  playfully,  "Had  you  wooed  me,  and  dis- 


338  ^  GENTLEMAN  BORN. 

played  all  your  noble,  true  character  to  me,  had  you  been 
persistent  in  your  love,  I  must  have  yielded  in  the 
end." 

"Now,  that  clears  away  all  doubts  from  my  mind." 

"Why,  you  could  not  think  otherwise  of  me,  could  you  ?" 

"Forgive  me,  darling.  I  fear  that  I  do  not  yet  ap 
preciate  the  wonders  of  your  grand  nature,  which  seem 
to  be  unfolding  before  me  day  by  day,  and  each  day,  each 
hour  adds  greater  lustre  to  your  love." 

"Is  it  really  so?  And  I  seem  to  have  known  you  for 
so  long  a  time,  dearest  Guy,  and  wonder  why  I  did  not 
love  you  at  the  first." 

"How  fair  the  scene  is  now!"  cried  Guyon.  For  the 
moon  was  sailing  full  in  her  course,  casting  her  silvery 
sheen  upon  the  waves  and  rocks,  through  the  tree-tops, 
and  on  the  vine-clad  porch,  shimmering  its  mellow  light 
upon  the  lovers  there,  causing  Mabel's  beauty  to  appear 
more  transcendent  than  ever  before. 

From  the  beach,  came  the  music  of  the  breakers,  as  they 
dashed  upon  the  rocks,  and  the  odors  of  ocean  were 
mingled  with  the  blossom-laden  air.  And  from  the  draw 
ing-room  came  the  refrain  of  the  old  love  melody. 

"It  is  all  peace,  delight  and  happiness,"  Guyon  mur 
mured. 

"So  shall  it  always  be  for  you,  dearest,"  whispered 
Mabel.  "Your  life  has  known  so  little  of  the  brighter  side, 
we  must  make  amends  for  all  that  now." 

"Hello!  Come  here,  Esther,  see  what  we're  missing," 
exclaimed  Harold.  "A  thousand  pardons — didn't  know 
we  were  intruding;  but  there's  plenty  of  space  on  the 
veranda  for  four,  isn't  there?" 

"Stay  here  if  you  wish,  we  also  were  admiring  the  scene, 
but  thought  that  you  preferred  the  music  inside," 


GUYON' 8  SWEETHEART.  339 

"How's  that,  Esther,"  Harold  cried.  "Aren't  they  get 
ting  to  be  a  really  selfish  pair  of  lovers?" 

"Not  a  bit  of  it!  They're  just  the  sweetest  things! 
Aren't  you,  dears?"  she  exclaimed,  giving  Guy  on  and  Mabel 
a  little  squeeze  together. 

"Isn't  it  different  from  that  other  night,  Hal?"  queried 
Guyon.  "Do  you  remember  that  you  warned  me  not  to 
fall  in  love  with  Miss  Gordon  ?" 

"In  pity,  don't,  Guy !" 

"Did  he  say  that,  really?"  asked  Mabel  smiling,  "you 
were  awfully  cruel,  Hal;  and  now  for  your  punish 
ment " 

"Please  let  me  administer  that,"  cried  Esther.  "For 
your  punishment,  you  must  say :  'Guy,  just  love  Mabel  as 
hard  as  ever  you  can ;  and  if  you  ever  find  your  love  growing 
cold,  think  of  the  misery  you  experienced  when  you  did 
not  possess  it !' '; 

"Oh,  that's  too  hard,  I  can't  remember  it,"  pleaded 
Harold. 

"I  will  beg  you  off  this  time,  old  fellow."  said  Guyon, 
"if  you  promise  never  to  do  it  again.  We  are  all  joyous 
to-night,  the  atmosphere  has  the  buoyancy  of  champagne 
in  it,  so  invigorating  and  sparkling,  thrilling  our  heart 
of  hearts  with  sensations  of  bliss." 

"And  that  is  love  !>J  Mabel  murmured. 

"Here,  Biglin,"  cried  Guyon,  "bring  out  a  couple  of 
cold  bottles,  and  glasses.  Ask  Mother  and  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Brandon  to  join  us." 

"I'll  chase  de  duck  in  a  minit,  Mr.  Guy,"  said  Biglin, 
with  a  grin. 

Then,  as  they  were  all  assembled,  Harold  proposed  "Love, 
the  crowning  bliss  of  our  lives,  perfecting  all  less  perfect, 
ennobling  all  less  .noble." 

"Oh,  stop — let  it  be  just  'Love,' "  cried  Esther. 


340  A  GENTLEMAN  BORN. 

"Just  'Love/ "  said  Guyon,  looking  full  into  Mabel's 
eyes. 

"May  your  loves  be  perfectly  true  and  happy,  without  a 
shadow  or  cloud,"  said  Muriel. 

"Then  let  us  sing,"  Mabel  whispered. 

"See  how  it  sparkles,  this  drink  divine, 
But  all  its  lustre  your  eyes  outshine! 
See  how  it  sparkles,  this  drink  divine, 
But  all  its  lustre  your  eyes  outshine!' 
But  all  its  lustre  your  eyes  outshine!" 


THE  END. 


THE  MONEY  SENSE. 

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talented  young  Scotchmen  from  the  country,  is  the  founda 
tion  of  this  splendid  story.  Their  various  adventures  are 
carefully  depicted  in  a  manner  that  rivets  the  attention,  and 
nothing  is  overdrawn.  In  this  lies  the  charm  of  the  book, 
rendering  it  beyond  compare  with  stories  of  its  class.  The 
writer  is  gifted,  and  the  work  sure  to  meet  a  cordial  recep 
tion.  Cloth  bound.  .  .  .  .  .  .  1.50 

THE  DEGENERATION  OF  DOROTHY. 

By  FRANK  KINSELLA.  This  story  is  extraordinarily  clever,  and 
will  please  the  honest  reader  in  search  of  something  unusual. 
The  theme  is  the  transfusion  of  blood  and  its  wonderful  ef 
fect  upon  character.  Poor  helpless  Dorothy  had  to  degenerate, 
but  happily,  science  explained  the  phenomenon.  The  writer 
has  produced  a  fascinating  and  original  book,  and  one  lays 
it  down  with  the  earnest  desire  to  read  more  from  the  same 
pen.  Cloth  bound.  .  .  .  . '  .  1.50 

THE  BOND  OF  BLACK. 

By  WM.  LE  QUEUX.  This  is  another  charming  and  spell-bind 
ing  story  by  the  wonderfully  successful  author  of  "  If  Sinners 
Entice  Thee,"  "  The  Day  of  Temptation,"  etc.,  and  is  one  of 
the  best  novels  of  the  year.  Cloth  bound.  .  .  " .  1.50 

DON  COSME. 

By  T.  H.  TYNDALE.  The  author  here  introduces  us  to  a  wealthy 
Southern  family.  The  favorite  daughter  loves  an  alleged 
Mexican,  Don  Cosme,  who  is  proven  to  have  colored  blood  in 
his  veins.  The  scene  of  the  girl  spurning  him  at  the  altar  is 
very  impressive  and  dramatic.  It  is  an  unsavory  incident, 
but  one  frought  with  significance.  There  is  unlimited  food 
for  thought  throughout  the  book,  which  should  especially  ap 
peal  to  Southerners.  The  essential  idea  of  the  work  is  treated 
with  great  force  and  fulness.  Cloth  bound.  .  .  1.25 


JACK  CREWS. 

By  MARTHA  FRYE  BOGGS.  A  brilliant  new  novel,  dedicated  to 
the  railroad  engineers  of  America,  one  of  whom  is  the  hero 
of  the  story.  The  plot  is  well  sustained,  the  hero  an  impress 
ive  character.  The  book  is  full  of  action,  it  is  dramatic  and 
will  hold  the  reader's  attention  to  the  end.  Cloth  bound.  1.50 

THE  FUNNY  SIDE  OF  POLITICS. 

By  GEORGE  S.  HILTON.  Nothing  has  ever  been  written  like  this 
book.  It  gives  many  amusing  stories  told  in  the  House  and 
Senate  in  Washington.  The  book  is  replete  with  anecdotes  of 
many  living  politicians.  Their  names  are  given,  as  well  as 
the  occasion  which  called  forth  the  stories.  Third  edition. 
Cloth  bound.  .  .  ...  .  .  .  1.25 

THE  SLAVE  OF  THE  LAMP. 

By  HENRY  SETON  MERRIMAN.  Author  of  "The  Sowers," 
"  Young  Mistley,"  "  Dross,"  etc.  There  is  a  ring  and  thrill 
to  this  story  due  in  part  to  its  unusual  theme.  It  is  written 
with  all  the  characteristic  power  of  the  author,  and  will  meet 
a  tremendous  sale.  Illustrated  and  Cloth  bound,  gilt  top.  1.50 

THE  SACRIFICE  OF  SILENCE. 

By  EDOUARD  ROD.  Translated  by  JOHN  W.  HARDING.  M.  Rod 
shows,  with  consummate  art  and  in  two  widely  contrasting 
examples,  that  silence  under  certain  conditions  constitutes  a 
heroic  sacrifice,  so  generous  in  its  abnegation,  and  in  one  case, 
in  which  the  unblemished  reputation  of  a  wife  and  mother  is 
involved,  so  unflinchingly  steadfast,  as  to  impart  a  character 
of  nobleness  and  grandeur  to  the  sin  of  prohibited  love  and 
its  inevitable  accompaniments,  lying,  deceit  and  hypocrisy. 
Cloth  bound,  gilt  top.  .  .  .  .  .  1.50 

A  PRINCESS  OF  VASCOVY. 

By  JOHN  OXENHAM.  Author  of  "  God's  Prisoner."  A  story 
that  will  win  thousands  of  admirers.  It  is  an  artistic  concep 
tion  ;  a  true  romance,  which  has  about  it  a  quality  of  real  life. 
It  is  a  dramatic  tale  equal  in  many  respects  to  the  "  Prisoner 
of  Zenda,"  and  fully  as  interesting.  Cloth  bound,  gilt  top.  1.50 


THE  MAN  WHO  BAKED. 

By  JOHN  P.  RITTER.  Mr.  Ritter  has  achieved  a  work  of  rare 
interest.  It  is  a  great  historical  picture  of  the  time  of  Robes 
pierre,  in  which  fact  and  fancy  are  welded  together  in  a  fine 
realization  of  the  spirit  of  the  times.  It  has  all  the  elements 
of  a  genuine  romance,  and  is  an  unusually  fascinating  his 
torical  romance.  Illustrated.  Cloth  bound,  gilt  top.  1.25 


THE  DAY  OF  TEMPTATION. 

By  WM.  LE  QUEUX.  This  is  one  of  this  author's  best  stories. 
It  is  thrilling  and  realistic,  and  bears  out  a  mystery  which 
carries  the  reader  through  a  labyrinth  of  strange  experiences. 
Cloth  bound.  .......  1.50 


THE  STOEY  OF  THE  ROUGH  RIDERS. 

By  EDWARD  MARSHALL.  The  most  intensely  interesting  book  of 
modern  times.  It  is  devoted  entirely  to  this  one  famous  regi 
ment.  It  contains  a  complete  roster  of  the  regiment,  and  is 
profusely  illustrated  from  photographs  and  drawings.  Cloth 
bound.  .  .  .  ,»  f  i  .  1.50 


WATERS  THAT  PASS  AWAY. 

By  N.  B.  WINSTON.  "  There  is  a  deep  lesson  of  life  to  be 
learned  from  a  book  like  this,  and  in  it  one  may  study  charac 
ter,  and  the  infallible  trend  of  social  consequences,  sorrow 
ever  following  sin,  and  sin  in  its  turn  yielding  to  joy  when 
true  repentance  follows  after." — Philadelphia  Item.  Cloth 
bound.  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  1.25 


THE  RETURN  OF  THE  O'MAHONY. 

By  HAROLD  FREDERIC.  To  those  who  have  read  "  The  Damna 
tion  of  Theron  Ware,"  and  "  Seth's  Brother's  Wife,"  there 
will  be  found  in  this  extremely  delightful  novel,  "  The  Re 
turn  of  the  O'Mahony,"  a  book  that  will  gratify  the  reader 
much  more  than  any  other  book  of  the  times.  Illustrated,  and 
with  portrait  of  the  author.  Cloth  bound,  deckle  edge,  gilt 
top.  .  .  .  .,  .  .  .  1.50 


A  CHEQUE  FOR  THREE  THOUSAND. 
By  ARTHUR  HENRY  VEYSEY.  (Tenth  edition.)  It's  a  jolly  good 
story,  bright  and  clear.  Dramatic,  full  of  life  and  action  and 
a  brilliant  farce  from  end  to  end.  You  cannot  put  it  down 
until  you  finish  it,  and  you  will  mention  it  many  a  time  when 
you  want  to  relate  something  novel  and  odd  among  your 
friends.  Attractively  bound  in  cloth.  .  ''  »  i.oo 

A  PEDIGREE  IN  PAWN. 

By  ARTHUR  HENRY  VEYSEY.  Author  of  "  A  Cheque  for  Three 
Thousand,"  which  has  run  into  its  seventh  edition.  Original, 
bright,  sparkling  fun  runs  all  through  "  A  Pedigree  in  Pawn." 
It  will  be  talked  about  and  laughed  over  more  than  any  other 
book  of  the  year.  Illustrated  with  14  character  drawings. 
Cloth  bound.  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  1.25 

EATS  OFF. 

By  ARTHUR  HENRY  VEYSEY.  Author  of  "  A  Cheque  for  Three 
Thousand,"  etc.  A  splendid  story  for  summer  reading.  Are 
you  tired,  blue?  Read  HATS  OFF!  Do  you  want  a  story 
for  the  hammock?  Read  HATS  OFF!  Do  you  want  a  story 
with  "  go,"  with  an  original  plot  ?  Read  HATS  OFF  !  Do  you 
want  to  laugh?  Read  HATS  OFF!  Cloth  bound.  .  1.25 

Paper  covers.        »          50 

THE  STATEROOM  OPPOSITE. 

By  ARTHUR  HENRY  VEYSEY.  Author  of  "A  Cheque  for  Three 
Thousand,"  etc.  Is  a  well  balanced  detective  story.  It  is 
not  overdrawn  as  such  books  usually  are,  but  full  of  mysterious 
and  vital  interest.  It  is  a  departure  from  Mr.  Veysey's  previous 
humorous  style  in  "  A  Cheque  for  Three  Thousand,"  and  "  A 
Pedigree  in  Pawn,"  proving  him  to  be  a  remarkably  versatile 
writer.  Most  of  the  events  take  place  on  shipboard.  It  is  a 
powerful  story,  with  a  most  dramatic  climax,  and  inimitably 
original  characters.  Cloth  bound.  .  .  .  1.25 
Paper  covers.  . ;  .  '  .  50 

CIEO  THE  MAGNIFICENT;  or,  The  Muse  of  the  Real. 

By  Louis  ZANGWILL.  The  Boston  Times  says :  "  The  story  is 
drawn  with  a  master  hand  and  the  characters  stand  forth  in 
clear  relief.  It  is  in  every  way  worthy  of  Mr.  Zangwill's 
reputation."  One  of  the  best  novels  of  the  year.  Cloth 
bound.  .......  1.50 


THE  DRONES  MUST  DIE. 

By  MAX  NORDAU.  Sixth  Edition.  "  As  purely  original  as  if  no 
other  novel  had  ever  been  written.  The  open  secret  of  sucli 
writing  is  that  it  is  the  result  of  the  experience  and  the  ob 
servation  of  one  of  the  keenest  observers — a  man  who  exag 
gerates  nothing  and  sets  down  naught  in  malice,  but  sees  with 
incomparable  clearness,  and  writes  down  what  he  sees."- 
The  Bookseller  and  Newsman.  ....  2.00 

TWO  ODD  GIRLS. 

A  charming  novel,  by  JOHN  A.  PETERS.  A  bright,  clever  and 
interesting  story  is  this,  with  a  vein  of  humor  underlying  and 
running  through  it.  The  style  of  the  novel  is  brilliant  and 
will  be  read  with  pleasure  and  avidity  by  all  who  peruse  its 
first  page.  Cloth  bound.  "•  ...  .  .  .  .  1.50 

MOTHER  TRUTH'S  MELODIES. 

By  MRS.  E.  P.  MILLER.  A  kindergarten  of  the  most  useful 
knowledge  for  children,  450  illustrations.  "  Every  lover  of 
children  and  of  truth  will  be  interested  in  this  charming  book ; 
every  house  in  the  land  should  have  a  copy;  it  will  entertain 
and  instruct  more  truly  and  more  sensibly  than  any  other 
book.  It  is  made  up  of  simple  stories  in  verse,  the  jingle  of 
which  may  be  music  in  the  children's  ears,  and  the  pictures  a 
delight  to  little  eyes;  made  in  a  form  to  attract  the  attention 
of  the  smallest  children,  and  one  to  readily  fix  in  their  mem 
ory  the  stories  told."  Cloth  bound.  .  .  .  1.50 

THE  TWENTIETH  CENTURY  COOK  BOOK. 

By  MRS.  C.  F.  MORITZ  and  ADELE  KAHN.  A  modern  and  com 
plete  household  cook  book  such  as  this  is,  since  cooking  has 
come  to  be  a  science  no  less  than  an  art  must  find  a  welcome 
and  become  the  most  popular  cook  book  of  all  the  many  now 
published. 

"  It  can  hardly  be  realized  that  there  is  anything  worth  eating 
that  its  receipt  cannot  be  found  in  this  volume.  This  volume 
has  been  carefully  compiled  and  contains  not  only  the  re 
ceipts  for  an  elaborate  menu,  but  also  the  modest  ones  have 
been  considered." — Bookseller  and  Newsman.  Bound  in  oil 
cloth,  for  kitchen  use.  .....  i-5° 


THE  WHITE  DEVIL  OF  VERDE. 

By  LUCIE  FRANCE  PIERCE.  This  is  a  story  of  pure  love  and 
stirring  action.  It  is  crisp,  bright,  often  thrilling  and  is  ex 
ceptionally  well-written,  the  style  is  clear,  and  the  plot  dis 
tinctly  life-like.  There  is  not  a  character  introduced  that  does 
not  make  an  immediate  and  successful  appeal  to  the  imagina 
tion  of  the  reader.  It  is  a  delightful  tale  of  Western  life. 
Cloth  bound.  „  .  i  .  .  .  .  1.25 

TRUE  DETECTIVE  STORIES. 

From  the  Pinkerton  Archives.  By  CLEVELAND  MOFFETT.  The 
absorbing  stories  told  here  by  Mr.  Moffett  are  statements  of 
actual  facts  repeated  without  exaggeration  or  false  coloring. 
The  author,  by  the  help  of  the  Pinkerton  Agency,  has  given 
the  inside  history  of  famous  cases  which  the  general  public 
only  know  of  through  newspaper  accounts.  Cloth  bound.  .75 

THE  COMPLETE  WORKS  OF  ARTEMTTS  WARD. 

(CHARLES  FARRAR  BROWNE.) 

With  a  biographical  sketch  of  the  author  by  MELVILLE  D.  LAN- 
DON.  The  present  edition  is  of  a  work  which  has  been  for 
more  than  thirty  years  prominently  before  the  public,  and 
which  may  justly  be  said  to  have  maintained  a  standard  char 
acter.  It  is  issued  because  of  a  demand  for  a  better  edition 
than  has  ever  been  published. 

In  order  to  supply  this  acknowledged  want,  the  publishers  have 
enlarged  and  perfected  this  edition  by  adding  some  matter 
not  heretofore  published  in  book  form. 

A  large  I2mo.  printed  from  new  electro  plates,  with  28  full  page 
illustrations,  and  Photogravure  Portrait  of  the  author,  hand 
somely  bound  in  cloth,  gilt  top.  ,  ....  . .  2.00 

AN  AMERICAN  CITIZEN. 

By  MADELEINE  LUCETTE  RYLEY.  The  fact  that  the  play  of  "  An 
American  Citizen"  has  had  the  most  successful  run  of  any 
modern  drama  should  guarantee  a  wide  sale  of  this  book.  The 
talented  and  successful  writer  has  displayed  a  wonderful  skill 
in  developing  the  plot,  all  the  outlines  of  the  play  are  artis 
tically  rounded  into  a  complete  novel,  which  the  reader  will 
find  intensely  interesting  from  the  first  line  to  the  end.  Cloth 
bound.  .  "V  -  -  •'.'••'  IlS° 


THE  RAINBOW  FEATHER. 

By  FERGUS  HUME.  Author  of  "The  Mystery  of  a  Hansom 
Cab,"  "Claude  Duval  of  Ninety-five,"  etc.,  etc.  Published 
simultaneously  with  the  London  edition.  This  is  a  wonder 
fully  clever  story,  intensely  interesting,  the  mystery  is  kept  up 
to  the  end,  and  when  the  reader  lays  down  the  book  it  is  with 
the  satisfaction  of  having  been  fully  entertained  by  a  remark 
ably  fascinating  tale.  Cloth  bound.  .  »  «  1.25 


HOUSES  OF  GLASS. 

By  WALLACE  LLOYD,  M.D.  It  is  more  important  than  most 
books,  and  deserves  special  attention  for  several  reasons. 
From  a  purely  literary  standpoint  it  has  claims,  being  exceed 
ingly  well-written,  and  most  profoundly  felt.  Besides  being 
founded  upon  philosophy,  the  story  is  firm,  clear-cut,  and  so 
interesting  as  to  lift  the  book  far  above  the  level  of  ordinary 
romances.  Cloth  bound. 1.50 


BEVERLY  OSGOOD;  or,  When  the  Great  City  is  Awake. 

By  JANE  VALENTINE.  This  romance  sets  forth  New  York  life 
as  seen  by  a  student  of  city  conditions  of  both  rich  and  poor. 
In  Nina  Palermo,  the  heroine,  is  a  convincing  illustration  of 
the  fearful  effect  of  evil  circumstances  on  the  life  of  an  inno 
cent  and  beautiful  but  poor  girl.  The  wide  influence  of  truly 
good  and  Christian  women  toward  uplifting  the  fallen  and 
quietly  aiding  reform,  is  also  portrayed  in  the  character  of 
"My  Lady."  It  is  a  work  which  should  do  much  good. 
Cloth  bound.  ,  .  .  •  •  .  .  1.50 


MY  FRIEND  THE  CAPTAIN;  or,  Two  Yankees  in  Europe. 

By  W.  L.  TERHUNE.  The  book  is  one  which  has  much  value 
as  a  guide  book  for  people  going  abroad.  It  has  much  of  in 
terest  to  those  who  have  never  been  abroad.  Mr.  Terhune's 
camera  served  him  well,  and  the  book  is  embellished  with 
a  hundred  or  more  illustrations  from  his  photographs.  Cloth 
bound.  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  1.50 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 

Los  Angeles 
This  book  is  DUE  on  the  last  date  stamped  below. 


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